


Court Crush

by titC



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Whump, ambiguous canon, some medical stuff related to whumping (ask for details if needed)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22954243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Tony Stark and Matt Murdock meet on opposite sides in a court room. Sparks ensue!Art byNivelle/WhoIsNivelle!
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Tony Stark
Comments: 65
Kudos: 201
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Marvel Fluff Bingo, Marvel Rare Pair Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Marvel Rare Pair bang and also my Marvel Fluff Bingo prompt, _clothes sharing_ and my Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, _don’t you dare pity me_.  
> Big thanks to PixelByPixel for betaing, hand holding, etc ♥
> 
> Art by [Nivelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle) / [WhoIsNivelle](https://whoisnivelle.tumblr.com/) ♥
> 
> Mostly based on the Daredevil TV show and MCU Avengers, but i took some liberties with MCU canon.
> 
> EDIT: a few days after posting, it was pointed out to me that two chapters were inverted. THEN, a few days later, that most of the italics (but not all) were missing. i sadly can't guarantee that nothing else went wrong, and apologies for those who read without the Tonitalics that were supposed to make him sound like himself. Yay. :-/
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The courtroom was too hot; the AC had to be broken. Or maybe it was that his legal team was losing, and that they were losing not because they sucked but because his own company had fucked up. Tony looked across the aisle at the opposing team surrounding Dom Rosario, his former (genderfluid) employee. He’d tried to talk to them, but it hadn’t worked. He’d fired the bigoted asshole who’d pushed Dom out, tried to get them to come back to Stark Industries, but it hadn’t worked. Dom wanted to go to court, make a big splash. Make it A Cause.

Tony agreed, privately, but it was bad publicity and he had to fight back. At least Dom had made a public statement about it being more about pervasive office and lab practices in companies in general, not specifically SI.

Dom’s newborn was fussing a little and Ms. Page cooed at the sprog as Tony watched. Ms. Page reminded him of Pepper a little: fiery hair, her bosses’ boss, and she clearly had put the fear of her disapproval in Nelson’s and Murdock’s souls. Tony liked her already, and as for the two lawyers… he’d like to lure them into his own legal department, but he doubted they’d ever accept. Especially not Murdock.

Tony had read up on them of course; he liked to know his opponents, and it turned out that while Nelson had worked for a high-paying firm for a while, he’d still gone back to work with his law school buddy as soon as he could. They operated out of a dingy little office in Hell’s Kitchen helping those in need, taking a lot of _pro bono_ cases, and getting paid just enough to keep them afloat. And Murdock? Murdock was never going to work for Tony, _ever_. He knew the kind and he respected it, but boy were they a thorn in his industrialist side. Ah, well. He watched them confer with Dom, and from Murdock’s determined expression he could tell they were going to go for the jugular. Tony braced himself and started to think about what he’d tell the press outside after he inevitably lost.

And lose he did. Murdock delivered a frankly lethal closing statement, subtly reminding everyone that different didn’t mean useless every time his hands fluttered around his cane – that different could, in fact, also be brilliant. He had very white, very sharp-looking teeth that he flashed with every unerringly accurate, challenging smile he sent Tony’s way, and his suit looked off-the-rack and rather cheap but the shirt – the shirt he was filling out rather nicely...? The shirt was silk, and that was something that aroused Tony’s curiosity even more.

Oh, shit. Tony had lost, but he’d also just found he had a new crush. Shit on a _stick_. Pepper was going to kill him.

So far, she was mocking him.

“Okay, so apart from that guy’s glasses, silk shirts, and shoulders, is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“His ass?” Pepper’s glare made him wish he still had his sunglasses on. “Right. Can we find a way to hire him?”

“No, Tony; we can’t.”

“But he’s really good!”

“I don’t doubt it, but this is not how we’re going to make this better.” He pouted, but Pepper had sadly become immune to his pouts years ago. “No, no hiring hot lawyers.”

“ _Brilliant_ lawyers!” She stared at him silently. So judgey, she was. “Okay, and hot.”

“Admitting it is the first step, Tony.”

“Right. But – ” Pepper cleared her throat. “ _Right_. So, regarding the lawsuit, I guess we should go above and beyond after that? On the discrimination issues, I mean.” Not the crushing-on-the-hot-lawyer ones, nope, not at all. That should not go above and beyond.

Pepper nodded and waved a hand in the air. “JARVIS, display the stats about SI employees who reported unmet needs or discriminatory behavior in the workplace.”

“Holy shit,” Tony said as the graphs and charts appeared. “I thought we were doing better than the others.”

“We are,” Pepper said. “That’s what makes it even worse.”

“We need outside help, someone who’s familiar with the issues on both the discriminated side and the legal side.”

“We can get in touch with associations, yes; I’ve drawn a list that…”

“What about a blind lawyer with experience in representing wrongfully fired employees or workers who are pushed out of their jobs?”

“Tony.”

“I bet he could help.”

“ _Tony_.”

“But it makes sense, right?” She narrowed her eyes. “Our own legal team is clearly not the best on that topic. Look, I’ll ask him; it would be good PR too if we can get him on board, right?”

“Well, yes.” Ha. He knew it! “But I doubt he’ll agree.”

“But Pep…” He tried the puppy eyes this time, but it still didn’t work. “Fine. How much time can you give me?”

“You have until Monday to convince him. If not, we do it my way.”

It was Wednesday; Murdock would be on board before the weekend.

Thursday morning, bright and early (well, at 10:30; but he had gone to sleep in an actual bed at one point so it totally counted), Tony Stark was standing in front of a tiny, second- or third-hand desk from behind which Ms. Page’s ice-blue eyes were trying to bore a hole in his skull. Damn. If she ever met Pepper, he was toast.

“You don’t have an appointment,” she said.

“Nope,” he replied. He dialed up his PR smile for good measure.

“Would you like to make one?” She didn’t need to add that it wouldn’t be welcome; her face was loud enough.

But Tony could work tough crowds, right? And he was used to formidable women. And as formidable as she looked, this one surely couldn’t hold a candle to the one and only Ms. Potts. “I will if it helps, certainly. What about, uh, 10:45? If Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock are free, of course.” Which they were: the door to one office was ajar and he didn’t even need to strain to hear the typing and humming coming from inside. The other office door was closed and the lights were off inside, but he could hear something like a tape recording or the radio: the blind (hot) lawyer was working on his own.

“I will check with them,” Ms. Page replied. Her tone was freezing, but Tony kept up the smile.

She didn’t call them or get up to talk to them; she only typed something and a ping sound came from one of the offices, then the other. A bit more typing, a couple more pings, and Murdock himself opened his door and leaned against the jamb.

“What do you want?”

Tony was pretty proud of himself for not saying “You,” right away, but it wouldn’t have been a lie. Murdock had taken his jacket off; his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and Tony would be damned – his arms looked really, really good. Guy must be working out in his spare time because _holy shit_ the shoulders, too. Did blind people do Crossfit? Probably. This one had to anyway, he had one seriously hot bod. Not superhuman like Steve’s and probably not as scarred as, say, Clint’s. He also wore those red-tinted glasses that Tony had to approve of. Murdock’s frown deepened the longer Tony didn’t answer, though, so he quickly scrambled a quick, “I have a proposal to make.” Which could lead to brainstorming sessions, and hopefully also a mutually-satisfying sex-ssion. Right?

“A proposal.” Murdock’s nostrils flared a little, but he didn’t add anything else. Tony spotted a mostly-healed cut over his eyebrow. He must have walked into a door or something.

“Yes. SI has already agreed to pay Dom’s lawyer fees and the compensation without appealing the court’s decision, but I want to do better. I used to pride myself on my company’s fairness of treatment, compliance with ADA, and generally on SI being a welcoming place for all our employees; turns out I was wrong. I really do want to do better, and I’m looking for people who could help me with that.”

“Why us?”

“Well, your firm is familiar with the issue; you’ve worked for several clients who were wrongfully dismissed for all kinds of reasons.”

“And we defended Dom Rosario, who was let go from SI because they were pregnant and one of your HR people refused to treat them like any other pregnant employee as long as they refused to be registered as a woman. I understand that would be good PR for you.”

“Well, yes, it would. But working as Dom’s attorneys also means you’ve already read up on SI. It really makes sense, apart from the PR.” Murdock didn’t look like the kind of guy who would appreciate being lied to so Tony went with full honesty, all cards on the table. Well, maybe not one particular card, but that one didn’t matter for now.

“No other reason?”

“I really mean it, Mr. Murdock.”

“Hm.” Then he aimed his face at Nelson’s door – huh, he’d probably been sighted at one point, to do that. Okay, one more thing to read up on – and hollered, “Foggy, what do you think?”

There was the squeak of old chair wheels on cheap linoleum, and Nelson appeared at his own door. “I don’t know, Matt. Do you believe him?”

“He’s not lying.”

“Are we doing this?”

“I mean, think about it, Fogs: telling the great Tony Stark how wrong he is.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

Yay? Tony felt like something more was coming.

“But do you trust him?” Ms. Page asked.

Murdock turned to Tony and grinned. It wasn’t a nice, polite smile. “Nope.”

“Aw, why? You said you don’t think I’m lying.”

“Eat the rich,” Murdock replied.

Okay, the guy was funny. He was joking, right? “I hope you’re not planning on killing me for my flesh. I’m not a young lamb anymore, you know.”

“Well, with a good marinade maybe,” Nelson said. “That would help.”

Ms. Page snickered and poised her hands above her keyboard. “So, do you still want to make an appointment?”

“For the slaughtering? Sure,” Tony answered. If that was what they were calling it now… “Just let me put you in touch with my assistant, and we’ll find a moment to meet at the Tower.”

“Why not here?”

“Well, we’d also be meeting with Ms. Potts, SI’s CEO; and, um.” He tried to put it in nice, non-threatening words. “You need to come in at least once so you can be scanned to create permanent visitor passes, you know? After that, you’d be able to come and go at will, talk to the employees, and so on.”

“ _Scanned?_ ” Murdock looked like he was sucking on a particularly sour lemon but the pursed lips didn’t make him any less attractive, sadly.

“Uh, just, you know, the usual biometrics; fingerprints, retinal scan, and the like.” Look, Tony took security very seriously, all right? Too many people depended on him to provide a safe and secure space in the tower.

“Would you consider coming here too?”

“Why?” Not that Tony was scared of Hell’s Kitchen, but there were better places, definitely. And their office was… not very bright. Yeah, that was it. Just a bit too dark in there for Tony’s tastes. “I mean, I’m a pretty busy guy, I’m not always free to cross Manhattan during peak hours.” There, that was a perfectly reasonable answer.

“Our time is precious too, Mr. Stark. And we don’t have chauffeurs or a flying suit of armor when traffic is too dense.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…”

“You absolutely meant to imply your time was more important than ours. Unless you find our address unsavory?”

Tony sighed. “Look, I apologize, I didn’t think before speaking and I was insensitive. Pepper says it’s something I have to work on so it’s fine, call me out if you have to.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Well, no one does, right?”

Murdock’s smile softened, and Tony realized he’d never seen him look anything other than combative, pissed off, and/or determined before. “No,” he said. “But we all need it sometimes.”

Uh oh. There was a story there. “Right. Well then, I’ll leave you to it; I’m looking forward to our work meetings.” Tony ever-so-slightly emphasized work, even if he didn’t really need to convince himself that nothing else would happen; he was an adult who now knew better than to act on all of his crushes. Even if – no. He thought of Pepper and her Done-With-Tony’s-Antics face, and decided that he could totally appreciate the hot lawyer’s hotness without wanting to seduce him into his bed for one night.

They shook hands; Nelson’s was warm and firm and overall pleasant but Murdock… his was dry, strong, _challenging_ , and also surprisingly red over the knuckles. “So am I,” he said, but Tony suspected they were not looking forward to quite the same thing.

Pepper was impressed when he reported his success, but she pointed out that they could have accepted only to find more chinks in SI’s legal armor, which was not as iron-clad (yes, that was intentional, and his entire legal team had groaned) as Tony had previously assumed.

“Nah,” he said as he sank a little further into his chair. “I think we got a rapport, a special something; there’s a spark, you know? They’re do-gooders, really; Nelson is the nice one and Murdock is the aggressive one, but they couldn't pass on that opportunity. And I’m going to pay them handsomely; that should help.”

“You seem pretty sure it’s a good idea.”

“Well, yeah? You even agreed, Pep!”

“I didn't think you’d convince them. That they said yes makes it really suspicious, Tony.”

“Suspicious why?”

“There’s more than meets the eye with them two, and you’re blinded by your little crush on the pretty one.”

“See? You can’t deny he’s pretty!” He ignored Pepper’s eyeroll and went on. “But really, that’s not the reason I’m doing this. Yes, he’s attractive, but I’m not going to act on it. I really want to improve SI.”

“I know.” Her face softened. “And having a crush isn’t a bad thing, Tony.”

“But I’m a bit old for them?”

Pepper laughed. “You’ve always been quick, I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.”

“Quick? I’ll have you know my staying power – ”

“I do not want to know about that. I meant that you can fall for someone in about ten seconds, and you usually forget about them right after sleeping with them.”

“Hey, I don’t do one-night stands anymore! Haven’t in years, as you’re well aware. But I’m not blind either! Uh, I mean.”

Pepper guffawed. “Yes, well. Still, be careful, all right? I’m not entirely sure about their motives.”

“Murdock seemed a little freaked out when I mentioned biometrics, so maybe you’re right. Maybe they’re spies from, uh, AIM? Doom? _The Soviets?_ ” Pepper threw a pen at his head. “Yeah, no. Still, JARVIS, make a note: only minimal scanning of the guy, he’s a lawyer. If he finds out what you can do, he’ll have your circuits melted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We definitely don’t want them suing us for a breach of privacy,” Pepper said. “I’ll ask Connie to draft a paper listing precisely what measurements are taken and how often, so he can read and sign it. He won’t be able to say he wasn’t made aware, then.”

“Right.”

This wasn’t going to smooth out their meeting, Tony thought. It would be him telling them all he could know about them, letting them realize he could do more but chose not to, and generally would not start out their conversation on a nice, pleasant note. But he guessed Pepper was right; she usually was, after all.

“I’m going to change and work on Nat’s gear in the workshop; if you need me to sign papers or anything I’ll be around.” It wasn’t something that he’d get engrossed into for days on end, just light work that would keep him available for other stuff; Pepper nodded at him before turning back to the files on her desk.

Tony stood up and tugged on his shirtsleeves; he’d chosen a slightly old Armani suit to visit Nelson and Murdock and maybe that had not been the right move. Slightly old Armani, for most people, was still obvious money and not dressing down. He should just have thrown on comfortable jeans and a well-worn shirt; they didn’t look like the kind of lawyers who only took you seriously if you wore a tie.

Ah, well. He’d do better next time, surely?

Next time didn’t go well right from the start.

Tony had ditched the old Armani for jeans and a jacket over an old band shirt and hoped that would help. It didn’t. Murdock was almost vibrating with anger when he ran his fingers over Connie’s list of what biometric data would be recorded and stored, and it took his partner long minutes of heated whispers to get him down to seething but functional. Tony caught the words _money_ and _bills_ on Nelson’s side, so he pretended to check his phone for as long as it took for the hissing to die down.

After a minute or two, Murdock had an epic frown on his face but let his fingerprints be scanned, his voice imprint stored, as well as his heartbeat recorded – which somehow made him grin like a wolf. However, he refused to let security scan his retina on the grounds that his eyes were damaged and he didn’t want to leave sensitive medical data lying around. Tony wasn’t sure why he drew the line there, but apparently it was take it or leave it so Tony nodded at the security people that it was okay (just that one time). Nelson was much easier to deal with; he let them take what measurements they wanted then followed Tony into the elevator, Murdock on his arm holding his cane in front of him like a weapon or maybe a shield.

“Welcome to the Stark-Avengers Tower,” JARVIS said.

Murdock jumped about a foot in the air and started to raise his fists before Nelson stopped him and pushed them down.

“What the hell?”

“I apologize, Mr. Murdock. I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s PA.”

“JARVIS’s an AI; he’s using the speakers to talk to us. If you have any questions or need help navigating the tower, just ask JARVIS to help.”

“I can walk fine.”

Nelson sighed. “Matt, everything here is glass and holograms projected on glass. There’s no Braille anywhere.”

Murdock grunted and lowered his head a little, like a bull about to charge. Tony took a deep breath and hoped that the rest of the meeting would be better. It couldn't be worse anyway, right?

Surprisingly enough, it went okay after that. They started in Pepper’s office, and as soon as they stepped in Murdock suddenly turned on the charm and sent a megawatt smile her way, with just the right dose of self-deprecation and good humor. Nelson rolled his eyes as if it was a common occurrence but Pepper was definitely enjoying it; she kept trying to catch Tony’s eyes to twitch her perfect eyebrows at him. Yes, he was well aware that Murdock, once launched into his topic, was (ironically enough) a sight to behold. He was driven, intense, and way more prepared than Tony had expected for a first work meeting that had only been planned two days ago. Pepper, of course, loved that.

Tony tried to distract himself from Mr. Angry, Hot, yet Competent (or was it Angry, Competent, and therefore Hot?) by focusing on his partner. They looked pretty different, overall: Nelson was softer and broader; his shirt looked like cotton but his suit and his bag looked way more expensive than Murdock's. His hair was blond and it looked like he’d worn it short but was growing it out. Not a common move for lawyers, but maybe now he wasn’t working in a big swanky firm any longer he was free to choose whatever hairstyle he wanted. At first glance, he was the nice one: easy smile, even voice, quick jokes. He didn’t have this aura of… of… banked fury, maybe, his partner had around him. Murdock felt dangerous; smart, pretty, and dangerous.

“Tony, what about you? Tony?”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t been listening. “Yes, yes, of course. Yes!” There, covered.

“You were zoning out, weren’t you.” Pepper shook her head. “ _Tony_.”

“I wasn’t! Okay, I was. Just a little bit! Only since you started talking about our cafeteria.”

“Does your enthusiasm mean you want both coffee and green tea, here and at the cafeteria at the same time?” Murdock was actually – Tony managed not to throw a hand over his heart – smiling in his direction.

“Well,” Tony replied. He looked at Pepper for help, but she was too busy snickering at him. “Coffee of course, and, uh. Where do you want to go?”

“No time like the present,” Nelson said. “Let’s go mingle!”

Tony spent the rest of the morning trying not to stare too obviously but at least he was confident Murdock never caught him ogling his ass. Small mercies – very tiny ones in fact, because both Pepper and Nelson noticed and while he could weather Pepper’s teasing, he hoped Nelson wouldn't tell his partner. Tony really, really wanted to make a good impression, and looking like a lech wasn’t the best way to do that, plus he was self-aware enough to know his reputation preceded him in these matters.

Still, this first meeting ended on a higher note than it had started, and Tony was pretty happy with his scheme overall. He was almost skipping when he left Pepper in her office to go down to his workshop, and he was definitely whistling.

Things took a turn for the bizarre, however, when JARVIS sent him a note with the recording of Murdock’s heartbeat: absolute silence.

“JARVIS?”

“I know, sir. It’s not possible, not for five full seconds. The equipment is fine; it worked well with Mr. Nelson and I had it checked afterward.”

Damn. “Do you think he isn’t human?” Because in that case…

“He is, sir. I took the liberty to track his heart rate during your meeting and it is fine, if slow. He simply had something to stop our regular equipment from working.”

Ah, shit. “Look, I am very, very glad to know he’s human, but if he learns about it… delete those recordings, will you, JARVIS? I don’t want him to sue us for breach of privacy and trust.”

“But sir, the biometrics…”

“We’ll do without.”

“Sir, relying only on fingerprints and voice imprint isn’t safe. Those are easy to steal and fake.”

“It’ll be fine, JARVIS, relax.”

“I cannot relax my circuits, sir.”

“Figure of speech, Jarv.”

“Of course.”

Tony shook his head and prepared for an afternoon of tinkering with an even more miniaturized arc reactor, making a mental note to check the equipment himself. Maybe it had just malfunctioned right as Murdock’s data was being recorded? But Steve’s call to assemble because of the sudden appearance of hostile submarines off the coast of Miami cut his plans off. He had a _(nother)_ job to do.


	2. Chapter 2

“Our Matty got himself an admirer,” Foggy announced when they got back to the office.

Karen immediately dropped her pen on her desk. “Oh, really? Who?”

“The one and only Tony Stark, of course! Man couldn’t stop staring at your butt, I swear! He walked behind you as often as he could get away with it. Didn’t you notice?”

No, he hadn’t noticed. Or cared. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Fogs.”

“I am not! After you’d stopped glowering at nothing and everything he relaxed and let me tell you, his eyes wandered. He sized us up, I think, but you? You he _ogled_ , buddy.”

Karen snickered. “Well, maybe we should put your butt on our business card: Nelson, Page, and Murdock’s Butt, at your service.”

Matt carefully positioned himself so they could only see his front. “Um. We got work to do now; we should start drafting some proposals and…”

“Oh, no. I want to know everything about your meeting!”

“Oh, it went as expected: Mr. Prim and Proper here was all rage and glare until we got to the elevator where he tried to get into a fight with an AI, then he charmed the CEO with the standard handsome, wounded duck routine.”

“You let them take way too much data!”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, he was the charm and I was the brains, as usual. Stark’s PA should get in touch with you to schedule a second meeting but here, this time; probably around next Thursday?”

“Right.” Matt started walking sideways to his office door, trying to look as smooth and nonchalant as possible.

“Why are you doing the Egyptian walk, Matt?”

Busted. He ran into his office and closed the door behind him to escape Karen’s questions. Sometimes, a strategic retreat was the best option.

The work Stark had hired them for was, at least, interesting and meaningful. It also meant getting a big, fat check – well, several, in fact; they’d established a schedule and everything – which made Karen coo at her budget spreadsheets and Foggy decide they could definitely go for the higher-end coffee machine after all. Matt still felt a bit uncomfortable around money; the sum they’d discussed had seemed… well, he had a hard time pinpointing the reason behind his discomfort. Could be it was to do with Stark himself; he’d built his fortune on his father's and the Stark money had started because of government funding for weapons that would kill more people with each new model. It was war- and death-profiteering, and even if Stark had changed his ways it was still there, a taint that all the green energy in the world couldn't erase.

That… that, and Iron Man.

Flying around in a glorified tin can, gaudily-painted from what he’d heard, didn’t make one a _hero_. Who was he helping? Sometimes, it really reeked of PR more than an actual desire to help. Plus, really – landing in the middle of a fight, shooting missiles and magic beams at whoever he’d decided were the villains _du jour_ , then rushing to bask in the spotlight… no. No, that wasn’t something Matt could understand or go along with.

However, Stark was surprisingly nice and (mostly) low-key when there was no one around to take pictures or demand his attention and that had been a welcome revelation, but now Matt was wondering: who was Tony Stark? the showy tin can guy? the slightly tired-sounding, easily zoning-out meeting guy? the guy famous for his lifestyle – money, sex, glamour, and then life-changing inventions? the war-monger, the Avenger? Who was the real one: Tony Stark as he was in the spotlight, or out of it? Or none of them, maybe? How did he deal with his identities, even if contrary to Matt’s both were public knowledge?

Whatever, whoever he was – Matt decided they were just operating on such different levels that he’d never know more than what the media would say. Stark lived in a tower that dominated Manhattan; he owned a company that dwarfed most others, was a superhero with toy ranges dedicated to his glory, and was richer than entire countries. As for Matt, he lived and worked in low-rise buildings in the Kitchen and his alter ego hid in the shadows, real and metaphorical.

He’d do the job for Stark’s employees, and that would be the extent of their interactions. Matt Murdock would be done with Tony Stark, and he doubted Daredevil would ever meet Iron Man.

That was the order of things.

“Hey, Matt!” Foggy didn’t yell; he knew Matt would hear him through their office doors and Matt’s earbud. “Check out the news, _now_.”

Foggy sounded a little concerned, so Matt removed his earbud and focused on the sound coming from Foggy’s laptop.

… _back on our main topic now. The attack happened off the coast of Florida, near Miami; the threat was neutralized by the Avengers who flew in from their New York base after a call from the authorities. Witness reports say Hawkeye and Iron Man were wounded in the battle; both were seen on stretchers before the Quinjet took off back to New York. Our sources say the two Avengers didn’t sustain any serious injuries and should recover promptly. More on this after a break!_

Matt pushed away from his desk, stood up and went to knock on Foggy’s office.

“Come in.”

Karen was already inside, and she picked up something from the chair next to hers before Matt sat down. Papers, from the sound of it. “We were working on Mrs. Mbassa’s defense,” she said.

“I think we got the right angle; we should be able to get the landlord to back off.”

“That’s good, Fogs.”

Karen’s phone pinged. “Oh, that’s Ms. Potts.” She paused, probably to read the message, then went on. “She asks if we can have our next meeting in Stark’s tower instead of here, because of his injury.”

“Is it that bad?”

“She says Tony will find any excuse to leave the Tower when he should rest and take it easy, so she’s cutting off all possible escape routes.”

“Huh. He sounds like you, Matty.”

“He does not.”

“Gets hurt, won’t listen to the doc telling him to take some time off to heal, is a sneaky SOB?”

“Foggy’s right.” And Karen was a traitor. “So, meeting next week in the Tower okay?”

“Fine by me,” Foggy said. “You?”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” It didn’t really matter.

“Wow, you’re a little ray of sunshine, buddy.”

“Maybe he’s upset his admirer’s wounded?”

He was not; Karen was wrong. “I just don’t like that place, but we’ll go. It’s fine.” He waved a hand in the general direction of his desk. “I’ll just get back to it, alright?”

Foggy hummed in answer, and Matt spent the rest of the day fleshing out the proposals they’d worked on in the morning.

Next week, Tony Stark didn’t come greet him at the entrance; it was a woman wearing sharp stilettos that tap-tap-tapped quickly as she walked. After they went through the security check, she led them up to an elevator and from there to a floor they hadn’t been on yet. From the smell, it was a medical wing; Matt could also sense a few other people milling around. Nurses and doctors, presumably.

“Hey, there you are!”

For a guy who’d been banged around in his flying tin can, Stark sounded rather good. “Good morning,” Matt said.

“Where’s your buddy with the hair?”

“A client had an emergency, so I’m on my own today. I hope that’s okay.”

“It absolutely is.” Stark wasn’t lying, and as before his heart rate went up slightly when Matt got closer. He’d first thought it was because they’d been on opposing sides in court, but now he remembered Stark’s reputation. Karen, Ms. Potts, the assistant who led him there: Stark was known to have a thing for pretty and smart women. Maybe he saw Matt as competition? That would be stupid, but then again Stark lived in a very different, flashier world than Matt’s. Maybe these things mattered to him.

Matt cleared his throat and tried to focus. “How are you, after what happened?”

“I’m doing great,” Stark answered.

The assistant huffed. “The staff have you on the good drugs, Mr. Stark; I’m sure it helps.”

Right at the same moment someone else joined them and said, “You _would_ be doing great if you hadn’t conveniently forgotten to wear your brace.”

“I didn’t need it!” Stark singsonged.

“Of course, Tony. That’s why now we’re taping your arm to your chest.” A hand was extended in Matt’s direction. “Sorry, I’m Bruce.”

“Bruce – Dr. Banner? I’m Matt Murdock.” He ignored the hand; he wasn’t supposed to see it.

“Bruce, he can’t see your hand.”

“Oh! Oh, right, sorry, insensitive of me.”

“It’s fine.” Matt held out his own and Banner’s hand found his. “I didn’t know you were also a medical doctor.”

“Not formally, no, but _certain people_ are fussy about who they let come near their broken bones.”

“Aw, Brucey, you know I love you!”

“Don’t mind him; we’ve given him painkillers for his broken collarbone and they make him… a bit loopy.”

“If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.”

“Oh no, it’s a prefect – purfruit – pef… good time. Thought you could meet the medical team today; they probably have ideas for improvement too, right?”

Matt pursed his lips. “Why not, yes.” Definitely not the most urgent, but since he was already there… “I’ll let you recover then, Mr. Stark.”

After a last round of handshakes, Matt followed the assistant’s stilettos to a meeting room on the same floor, and almost tripped on his own feet when he heard Stark’s stage-whispered comment behind him.

“So, Bruce, did you see that ass? He’s cute, right?”

“Tony, you’re so high…”

Matt sighed and focused on the job at hand. High-as-a-kite, philanderer industrialists were not the reason he took the job, after all. Even if, okay, they were willing to get hurt to help people in Florida. He wasn’t _all_ bad, just… not in Matt’s world.

Two nights later, a great big crash made him leap from roof to roof before the shrieking metal had finished crashing through whatever it was it had collapsed on. Soon enough, he heard the sounds of TVs and radios from cars and apartments drift to his ears, and he stopped a block away from the site.

A large crane, perched on top of a skyscraper under construction, had fallen on a building below and destroyed the top floors. Matt strained his hearing as far as it would go, but he couldn't make out any heartbeat under the crane; either the building had been empty or everyone was dead already. Screams, sirens, and rubble still settling – everything was noise and fear. He shuddered. Should he get there, could he help? He remembered well, too well, how it felt to be trapped under… to be trapped.

_An office building, empty at this time of night,_ a radio journalist said. Didn’t they have cleaning staff or security guards? Unless they only had cameras there. And what about people around the low-rise? _The apartment buildings around the area are being evacuated as we speak, and K9 units are being brought on-site to search for potential victims who might be caught under the blocks of concrete._

He should get there. He could help; he could hear and smell and use his senses to spot anyone still alive. He was too far away to trust what they were telling him from the building he was on but he was frozen on that roof, a coward, unable to take one more step closer to where he was needed. He had to go; he had to get there, do something, he…

A high-pitched whine stopped his thoughts in their tracks. He’d heard that sound before, from news bites and Karen’s phone when she was in a mood to tease Matt about his _admirer:_ Iron Man’s repulsors. What was he doing there?

_Iron Man’s just arrived on site, only a few days after sustaining an injury in Florida. It looks like he’s helping the first responders already there to spot potential victims and conferring with the fire department about how to help. Our team has just arrived and…_

Matt stopped focusing only on the news reports. He could only catch a few words of Stark’s conversation with the department's engineers, but he didn’t need to wait for long. Neither dogs nor Stark’s sensors had spotted anyone under there and soon enough, Iron Man was helping set up a rig around the crane with a few drone armors (there were _drone armors_?) and planning to lift the entire thing just enough to check the stability of the pile of rubble before sending smaller drones in.

Matt sat down and let his legs dangle from the roof; he wasn’t needed after all. He stayed there, one ear on the Kitchen behind him and one on the work Iron Man was doing – heavy lifting, cutting metal with one of his strange beams that sounded like science-fiction stuff to Matt, managing a bunch of drones right as he was coordinating with the city services, and taking a few minutes here and there to talk to the journalists so they wouldn't bother the other people working on the site.

The Kitchen was quiet that night, probably engrossed in the clean-up operation and ongoing speculation about what had just happened – had there been a foul act under it all, were they sure no one was trapped, would the Avenue be cleared by tomorrow morning, when would it be safe for the people in the blocks around to get back home?

And, Matt wondered, how could Stark do what he was doing, even with the armor, while he had broken two ribs and his collarbone only a few days ago? Drugs, he decided. It had to be drugs. Rich guy like him, he had to have access to cutting-edge ones.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was pretty pleased with the way things were going. The hot lawyer was hot, yes, but he was also driven, so the new SI ADA compliance (and beyond) policy was shaping up quickly. And because he never had enough hobbies, Tony had taken an interest in the neighborhood. He knew about Hell’s Kitchen, of course; it wasn’t that far from his own tower after all. Still, he’d never been there a lot before his regular visits to the offices of Nelson and Murdock, but since then he’d discovered a few things: there were a few great food places, the community was tightly knit, and they had their own local, masked vigilante that everyone he talked to was pretty protective of.

He tried to ask the lawyers and Ms. Page – _Karen_ , they were all on a first-name basis now – about him but they brushed him off just like everybody else, which was annoying. Tony was well aware that they’d worked together to bring Fisk down; they had to know _something_. If not his name, at least how to get in touch, where to find him… Tony was curious. Now he’d been cleared for active superheroing again, he had less time to randomly drop in on the lawyers, but he still had JARVIS monitor the Kitchen closely when he had to be away from New York. And if that meant having a drone or two do a sweep of the Kitchen from time to time, so be it. Tony was a curious guy.

But when he could be there… Well, he insisted more and more often on having regular meetings to check up on things in the Kitchen than at the Tower. Foggy had asked whether so many meetings were necessary, but he’d said that with a glint in his eye, a glance at Matt, and a quick wink at Karen so Tony was pretty sure his little crush hadn’t gone unnoticed. Ah, well. Matt himself seemed oblivious, or maybe a better description would be _aggressively uninterested_ , and Tony knew not to push. Not with someone who kept a slightly cold distance at all times. He might look a bit more closely when Matt took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, but that was all. No, really. He had, after all, hired Nelson and Murdock for a legitimate and important reason and he intended to see it through, even more so since they were close to the end goal.

They were, in fact, wrapping up the first official draft that very day. Ms. Page was away on a fact-finding mission, they said, and it was only Matt, Foggy, and him in the little, badly-lit meeting room. It was a shame; Tony had planned on inviting them all to lunch to celebrate this first milestone.

“Eh, maybe next time,” Foggy said. “But if you’d like, I can go get us some takeout from my brother’s deli; it’s only a few blocks away. I can promise you won’t regret it.”

“You have a brother?”

“Less handsome, but way better with a knife than I am.” Matt snickered. “Hey! I meant he’s a butcher, not a mugger. I’m not a mugger either, by the way. Just to make things clear.”

“You’d be a lousy mugger, Fogs,” Matt said.

“I’ll have you know I’m great with a softball bat.”

“I’m sure you are. What do you say, Tony?”

“Well, sure. As long as next time is my treat?”

Foggy gave him two thumbs up and a wink as he walked backward out of the office and left with a last, “I’ll pop in the bakery too; we’re _celebrating_. Be good while I’m away!”

Matt shook his head with a smile and stood up to go poke at their coffee machine.

“You’ve known each other for a long time, right?” Tony asked.

“Since we were law students, yes.” Matt’s fingers ran down the little table, found the ground coffee, and picked it up.

“Want some help?”

Matt slammed the metal box hard on the table. “I don’t need help. I’m perfectly able to make coffee, even if I’m blind.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…”

“You did! You keep – you keep looking at me! I can feel it. You’re curious; you’re _staring_.”

“How would you know if I am, anyway?”

“Foggy said…” Matt turned around and stabbed a finger in Tony’s general direction. “He said you did, that first day. And then you asked all those questions about my Braille display, and you keep mentioning that friend you built an exoskeleton for, and you – you _pity_ me!” He was breathing hard now, his nostrils flaring and his lip slightly curled.

Tony was speechless. “Huh,” he managed.

“I don’t need help, do you hear me? And you can keep your pity; I don’t want it.”

“Okay,” Tony finally said. “But, uh. Are you aware you’re bleeding?”

“What?” But Matt’s hand immediately covered his side. A stain was spreading from under his jacket, not very big but visible enough on the white silk. “No.”

“Yes. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Tony stood up and took the few steps he needed to push the hand and fabric away and stare at the bright red dots. “Not nothing. Can I look? I’m not too bad at first aid, you know.”

Matt slipped away from between Tony and the table and closed his jacket. “No. I told you, it’s nothing. I just… my knife slipped yesterday when I was cutting vegetables.”

“And you stabbed yourself in the gut?”

“It’s fine.”

“Were you mugged or something?”

“No.” Matt’s expression was closed off, and his tone cold as Siberia. Colder.

“I heard about your local hero, the guy with the mask, Daredevil? Looks like he didn’t get there in time.”

“I wasn’t mugged.”

“Look, it’s just… you’re bleeding, whatever caused it. I promise I won’t pry, but maybe I can give it a look and… do you have a first aid kit in here? I’m good with my hands, promise.”

“I’m not a circuit board.”

“Aw, look, it’s all the same, all right? My hands don’t shake.”

His face did a weird thing and then finally Matt’s shoulders slumped a little, his defensiveness dropping with them. “Bottom left drawer of my desk,” he mumbled as he leaned against the wall.

“Right. Fine. Be right back. Don’t faint, okay?”

“I’m not that delicate.”

No, he probably wasn’t, if a knife to the gut (however that happened) didn’t faze him. Tony went for the first aid kit, wondering why it was in Matt’s desk and not, say, the bathroom or the kitchen or another common area, and opened it after setting it next to the coffee machine. And whistled.

“Whoa, you’re stocked. So, uh, do you do extra hours as a nurse or something?” Matt frowned, so Tony went on before letting him edge a word in. “Can you open your shirt for me?”

More scowling, but Matt grudgingly opened the bottom four buttons of his shirt. Okay, he was a modest guy, it was fine. “Enough?”

No, Tony wanted to see more of those abs. Holy shit, the man worked out. “It should be fine. Not the way I’d pictured you undressing, but…”

“You… pictured me undressing?”

“Why do you think I like looking at you?” Tony replied as he started mopping some of the blood off. “I’ll give you a hint: it’s not pity.”

That seemed to stump Matt a little, and he didn’t answer.

“Okay, so I assume you already know you popped a stitch and that’s why you’re bleeding, right?” Matt sighed and nodded. “Right. So, I have questions: what kind of kitchen incident ends with five stitches on the stomach, and why are there several scars on what little I can see of your skin? I mean, just order takeout if peeling a potato ends up in a bloodbath so often.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t pry.”

Damn, he remembered. “Please don’t sue me.” There, a little smile, good. “I’ll just put some butterfly stitches there and tape some gauze over it, all right?”

“Fine.”

“Look, do you know how many people can say they’ve been nursed back to health by the mighty Iron Man? Count yourself lucky, it’s a _very_ small number.” Matt’s stomach twitched. “Don’t laugh, or I’ll have to start again.” Not that the view was bad: it wasn’t. Slightly worrying, but definitely not bad. When he was done, Tony patted the gauze and got up from his knees ( _Ouch_. He wasn’t _that_ old, was he?). “There, all good to go. Just don’t cook anymore, ever, you hear me?”

“My hearing’s pretty good.”

“What about your understanding?” Tony put his hands on Matt’s shirt and leaned in a little. “Do you need help with that?”

“I can do my buttons, thanks.”

“But you're hurt.”

“I – _Tony_.”

“Yes?”

“Are you… flirting?”

Tony gaped. “Don’t tell me you’re only noticing now because if _that’s_ the case, I’m really losing my touch. I told you, I like looking at you.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“I am not.” Matt licked his lips, and Tony stared. “I, uh. Really do. Like it.”

Matt’s hand landed on his chest then, and Tony had to clamp down on the urge to go for a kiss. _Don’t spook him,_ he told himself, _he’s going to bolt if you do._ “Your heart’s going a bit fast,” Matt said.

“Oh, yeah?” Jesus, his fingers were right next to where the arc reactor had been, and it was doing all sorts of things to Tony.

And then Matt shoved him away and his hands flew to the first aid kit. “Foggy’s back,” he said as if their lips hadn’t been that close. _That_ close. “I can hear the elevator. I’ll just take this back,” and he disappeared into his office while Tony stood there blinking like an idiot, bloody gauze on the table behind and his lips still expecting to touch Matt’s. Shit. He hadn’t anticipated… _any_ of that. He shook himself, swept the gauze in the trash can, and plastered a well-practiced Tony Stark ™ smile on his face.

He was Iron Man; he’d find a way to woo that guy and get to the bottom of the murderous kitchen implements mystery, because no way were all those scars coming from vengeful carrots.


	4. Chapter 4

Matt sat on a kitchen chair and took the mug Maggie thumped in front of him. Tea. Did he look like he needed tea?

“Thanks,” he said anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not fooling me, kiddo. I’ve seen that sullen face often enough.”

He took a sip of the tea and burned his tongue. Better than answering, though.

“Fine. Open your shirt, I want to look at my stitches.”

“They’re fine.”

Maggie sighed through her nose. “ _Matthew_.”

He put the tea down and complied; he knew better than to disobey.

She hummed. “You tore one out.”

“Fixed it.”

“Well, as long as you keep your blood inside.”

Hey, he tried. “Do I pass inspection, then?”

“It’ll do.”

Matt smiled a little; she might be gruff but she cared, in her own way. It was more than he’d thought he could ever have; it was enough. Had to be. “How are you?” She rarely talked about herself and generally answered as if he’d inquired about the orphanage, but he always asked.

“We’re good here,” she unsurprisingly said. “We got a big donation yesterday from the Maria Stark Foundation.”

“What?”

“The attorney who brought the check said that Stark wanted to honor his mother’s memory.”

“I don’t understand.” What was Tony playing at? He didn’t believe in God; he’d made that very clear many times in interviews. “He’s not Catholic, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, I don’t know why, but I’d rather not give it back because you’re throwing a hissy fit, Matthew.”

“The Stark money was built on war and weapons and blood!”

“And now it’s going to help us buy new beds for the children here, a bigger freezer, and computers. We – the _children_ need this.”

“It’s just weird.”

“Not _that_ weird; that foundation does a lot of charity work.”

“Not with small Catholic orphanages.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Why don’t you ask him? He hired you, right?”

Matt got his phone out. “I can call him now.”

“Go ahead, I can see you’re making the stubborn Murdock face.”

That derailed him. “The what?”

“You heard me.” Her heart rate was slightly faster than usual; she was a bit anxious.

“But you never…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. How many times had he wanted, needed, dreaded her to mention his father? And she was doing it… now?

“I am now.” She nudged the hand that still held his phone. “Go on, just do it. No time like the present.”

He called.

_Hey, isn’t that my favorite lawyer Murdgood Mattshall? Need to reschedule?_

Murdg- No, he shouldn't react when Tony was trying to get a rise out of him. “I’m not on the Supreme Court, and no. Tony, I just heard…”

_How’s the wound, by the way? Did it rip open again? You’re forbidden from making soups, by the way; you clearly shouldn't be trusted with a knife._

“Wound? Knife?”

_Who’s that?_

“Hello, Mr. Stark. I’m Sister Maggie, from St. Agnes. We’re very grateful for your donation; it will do a lot of good here.”

Matt put the phone on the table and his head in his hands. What was happening?

_Yeah, that’s the idea. You know, my mother was a devout Catholic, and while it didn’t really take in me, I thought – well. It’s going to be the anniversary of her death, and I thought it would be a good way to commemorate, you know?_

“I grew up here,” Matt ground out between his teeth.

“Not everything has to be about you, Matthew.”

_Oooh, I like you, Sister. And she’s right; it’s not about you… although it’s a happy coincidence._

Matt could hear Stark’s grin through the phone, and his fists itched.

“A happy coincidence indeed. Would you care to come visit St. Agnes? I’m sure the children would love to see you.”

Maggie’s tone was all nice and sweet and wrong and Matt knew, he just knew she was doing it to piss him off.

_I’m really not doing this for the publicity, but if it can be done discreetly, sure! I’d love to._

No. No, no no… that was a terrible idea.

“Matthew can organize it with you then; he says he’s working with you these days?”

 _He’s talked about me?_ Tony sounded way too happy about that. _Cool. Sure, yeah, we’ll do that. Hey Matt, you’ll be there too, right?_

“I have a job.”

“Don’t be rude, Matthew.”

“It’s just… why the sudden interest in Hell’s Kitchen? You hire us, and then there are the drones, and now this?”

 _I think you know why._ Stark was quiet for a moment. _How do you know about the drones? They’re stealth._

“People have mentioned them.”

_They’re **stealth**._

“They’re noisy.”

 _No, they’re not. When you say ‘people,’ do you mean your buddy Daredevil?_ Maggie choked on her tea. _People say he’s pretty good at spotting stuff that no one else can see or hear._

“He’s not my buddy.”

_Right. Well, if you see him around tell him I’d love to meet, yeah?_

“I doubt I’ll see him.”

Tony snickered. _You know what I mean. I’d like to talk to him, and not just because he’s got a great ass in those tight – uh, sorry, Sister._

“Do go on, this is very entertaining. I should tell you, Matthew has turned a lovely shade of red.”

“I have not.”

“And how would you know?” she asked.

“I would.”

_Take pictures for me, Sister! I’m definitely looking forward to my visit. Gotta go, Pepper’s calling for me and I really can’t make her wait… see you on Tuesday, Matty McBeal!_

“I like him,” Maggie said once he’d put the phone back in his jacket.

“I don’t.”

“He likes you. Even complimented your…”

“Maggie!”

“What?”

“He doesn’t know. About Daredevil.”

“He knows you got stabbed. By… soup?”

“I said the knife slipped when I was making dinner.”

“Let this be a lesson to you, Matthew: lying is a sin, and you’re now reaping its fruit.”

It was unfair; he couldn't have told the truth and Maggie knew it. He was already worried enough about Tony’s drones; Matt heard them more and more often flying around the Kitchen and he couldn’t help fearing that one day, Tony would know. His tech would put two and two together, match the biometrics data from Stark’s security records with whatever the drones were undoubtedly collecting. And then… and then, Matt had no idea what would happen. He hadn’t managed to destroy the drones; he’d tried throwing stuff at them but they evaded him or were simply hovering much too high. And he couldn’t ask Tony to stop stalking him, because Tony didn’t know who he was. Tony thought he was after Daredevil, probably to try and get him into his team of flashy do-gooders that, fine, worked hard to protect the citizens, but were also very far away from the day-to-day lives of the people living their days in the shadow of the Tower.

And he could never know Matt was Daredevil.

Tony, for all his reputation, didn’t really try to push Matt into anything. He made a few more remarks, made his interest clear, yes – whatever he was, actually, interested in. He also asked how his knife wound was healing, joked about cooking, and when they were alone stood a little closer; it made Matt remember a bit too vividly the few minutes Tony had spent kneeling in front of him, cleaning the cut and gently patting the butterfly stitches flat on his skin. Tony had dry, steady hands and his breath had felt warm on Matt’s stomach.

It had been, well, nice. A stolen, intimate moment between work and Foggy’s return with food, just the two of them, and then Tony had said he liked watching him. Matt. That… certainly explained some of his reactions – the slightly elevated heartbeat, the hint of excitement in the air, Tony’s breathing going just that bit faster – that Matt had initially attributed to Tony’s combativeness, since they’d met in a courtroom, or lately Karen’s presence. She often had that effect on people, as he well knew. But… no. It had been the same then, without anyone else around, when Tony had been showing sincere concern over what had been, in the overall scheme of things, only a rather minor injury.

And Matt was _unsettled_. Tony Stark? No. Matt was well aware that his own suits were cheap and not quite fitting, that his hair was often a mess and his skin scarred. He wasn’t the kind of pretty face that Iron Man went after, or anywhere near his regular circles. He seemed sincere, but Matt was pretty sure it was curiosity – perhaps the blind thing helped, it _was_ a turn-on for some people and Matt avoided them like the plague – but, more likely, it was about a certain vigilante. Tony had mentioned Daredevil several times, asking about him and trying to convince Foggy, Karen, or him to set up a meeting. Maybe Matt was a means to an end, first and foremost. A side dish to the _pièce de résistance_ , i.e. the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Tony had to want something from him.

Yes, that would make more sense. And Tony’s surveillance of the Kitchen was ramping up; there were more drones, they were flying around more often and some felt pretty big to Matt’s senses. They’d been following him a few times but backed off when he threatened to knock them down with his batons. He didn’t try throwing them anymore since it was pointless, but waving one in their direction was enough. They were, in fact, as annoying and obnoxious as Tony could be, but knew when to step back like he did.

They just never really quit, and that was putting Matt on edge.

It all came to a head two weeks after that moment that still troubled Matt, when he remembered it – which he tried not to do.

He was trying to avoid getting shot by a bunch of surprisingly well-armed goons working for the Owl; some of them were hiding in high-up places and Matt was having a hard time finding cover. It seemed like everywhere he went, someone was already there; every time he got close to an escape route, bullets were ricocheting between him and his goal. He was starting to lose hope; his stamina was waning and, for once, Tony’s drones were nowhere to be heard. Most of them had suffered damage in the latest Avengers mission, or so Tony had said the last time they’d met; Matt had thought he was finally going to have some respite from their constant buzzing in his ears. But now it meant that Matt was on his own, and it looked like this time, it wasn’t going to be enough. He’d always known his time was coming sooner or later, but…

He ran, jumped, ducked; he threw whatever he could to distract the shooters so he could run in the opposite direction, but it wasn’t enough. He was losing steam, and they were slowly but surely boxing him in. Soon enough, he was cornered and his only choice was between the Williamsburg bridge railway tracks and the two guys with military-grade weapons advancing on him. He’d lost his batons a while ago; he was out of breath and all his muscles were screaming. He was done. It looked like he really was done, this time. He thought about Maggie; he thought about Foggy, about what it would do to him, their firm, the work they’d done if he died. If he was recognized. Mostly, if he was recognized. That was what he had to prevent.

He could run on the tracks; he wouldn't last long. He could already feel them vibrating, feel the subway car coming closer. It was a matter of less than a minute. He’d be turned into a pulp and, hopefully, unrecognizable. Or he could jump into the freezing water, and if the impact didn’t kill him then the cold soon would; they could chalk it as a suicide. He’d just ditch his mask and the thigh holster for his batons beforehand. Or he could…

A bullet hit the metal close to his feet, and he didn’t have any more time to think.

He jumped.

God, Matt knew, didn’t look favorably on those who actively chose death. Martyrs didn’t count; martyrs had their faith burning bright to lead them straight into the arms of God, but Matt? Matt was choosing death, and it wasn’t even the first time. He didn’t jump to proclaim God’s Word: he jumped for Foggy, who didn’t deserve to lose everything because of Matt’s stubbornness.

He jumped, but he never hit the water. Instead, he heard a whooshing sound and he was suddenly encased in something – something metal and tight and airless; he tried to fight against it but it was stronger than him and wouldn’t budge and it was… it was…

Loud metal on metal noises rang and made him yell in surprise, but after a few seconds, he realized it was the Owl’s goons shooting his – his _flying coffin_. That was what it was; it had picked him out mid-air and he was not in water and it was so tight he couldn't move; it was how God punished him for choosing death. He deserved it, but still he yelled until he’d used up what little air there was; he gulped the emptiness after that and shook and cried and he was pretty sure his mask was soaked with sweat and tears. A strange, inhuman voice kept telling him to breathe, to look at the display, to move naturally.

 _I can’t,_ he yelled, then rasped, then mouthed. _I can’t. I’m dead already, I’m damned._

Then, there was another voice that should, perhaps, have been familiar, but he was too far gone to recognize anything by then. He was fear and horror, and damned for all Eternity.

Then, there was nothing.

It lasted for a long time.

It should have lasted forever, or at least until Judgment Day, but it only lasted until suddenly the coffin opened up and spat him out on a cool surface and he fell to his knees, catching himself with a hand before he collapsed on his elbows. Everything was loud and the air was a strange mixture of stale and fresh, recycled and too clean; the temperature was too mild and the humidity was too perfect and still he couldn't breathe. His arms finally gave out and he ended up gasping on the floor like a dying fish, his mouth wide open and no air, no air coming in. He could taste it on his tongue, but his lungs were empty and the sounds around him were dissolving slowly into nothing. He was losing consciousness, he knew.

“Holy shit. Shut down the music!” Someone said. It was suddenly quieter. “He’s having a panic attack; JARVIS, what do I do? I’m never on this side of one. _JARVIS!_ ”

There were more words, but none he could distinguish. Something plastic on his face; the air changed again and he tried to push it away, push what was covering his nose and mouth away. But his arm wouldn’t work, and he just wavered on the edge of himself for a while.

When Matt started to come back into himself, he found the plastic over his mouth had disappeared. Someone had thrown a blanket over him; it felt soft and pleasantly worn. It smelled like engine oil and burnt things, with a hint of coffee.

“Welcome back,” the voice said. The human one. Oh – Tony’s. “So. Not how I’d hoped we’d meet, but I’m glad I got to save you.”

“This isn’t Hell.” Matt’s vocal cords were shot, he could only whisper.

“Uh, no. This is my workshop, as you can see. I’d just sent out the first drone I finished fixing when it reported you were having a tough time of it, so I sent an empty armor to help out and then, like an idiot, you jumped. You’d have died if it hadn’t caught you.”

“Yeah.” The constant hum around Matt was distracting; he couldn't focus on anything.

“… okay. Glad we covered that.” Tony’s knees popped and the fabric of his clothes made a soft sound as he settled next to him. “So, uh. Apart from the suicidal thing, didn’t you see the armor come in to help?”

Hah. No, he hadn’t. “Stealth,” he replied.

“Okay, you’re absolutely right, they’re stealth; but you usually spot them. I have lots of videos of you waving one of your weapons at them, so you know when they’re near. But not this time, apparently.”

If he hadn’t still been lying on the floor, Matt would have shrugged; as it was he just grunted. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of the rehearsal of an electro-jazz band before a gig; all the humming and buzzing added to the pounding in his head. He wanted to cry. He would have if there had been any moisture left in his body.

“So, uh. Need anything? JARVIS – the AI talking to you in the armor – said you were dehydrated. I’ve got some vegetable smoothie, if you'd like. I know it’s very green, but I swear it’s good for you. Want to try?”

“AI?” The inhuman voice was Tony’s AI? He hadn’t recognized it. Different speakers from the ones in the meeting rooms and elevators? Whatever, he didn’t care.

“Well, yeah. You, uh, didn’t seem to make friends. You know, Jarv was ready to let you pilot the armor; it’s pretty easy. I’ve built the drone interface so anyone can use it; just look at… okay, your mask can’t have helped. How can you see anything through it, though? Must be some special kind of material, right?”

“Wool, mostly.”

“Ha, no.”

 _Ha, yes._ Matt sighed. He was there now, and even if Tony didn’t know, his AI had to have put two and two together. It had to have matched whatever data it had on Matt Murdock with what it had on him, now. “I can’t see.”

“Yeah, pull the other one. So, smoothie? No smoothie?”

Matt sighed. He didn’t want to be here; he wanted to be away from… everything. He’d fucked up tonight, fucked up big time; he needed to regroup and get at the Owl via another angle and just – he needed out. He should piss Tony off and get kicked out of his too-modern Tower as soon as possible, so he could get back home. But maybe… “Beer,” he finally said. “Not the fancy microbrew shit you rich people drink.” That should annoy Tony, right?

“We rich people also have good old Buds and Fosters in our fridges,” Tony replied mildly.

Matt heard him get to his feet and walk to a fridge, its low-grade hum recognizable among all the other strange noises of the place. Tony took some cans out; the clink of metal on metal was familiar. Matt found he was able to sit against the wall now, the blanket clutched in one hand, and he held out the other for whatever kind of beer Tony had picked.

It was a bottle of fucking water.

“I promise I got you a beer, but you could really do with H2O first, yeah?” Tony sat back down and his hip and shoulder brushed along Matt’s. “Look, you’ve just… you look like you need it, okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Eh, maybe, if you ask nicely. Drink your water first, though.”

Matt hated that he was right; his throat was parched and he did need the water. But he couldn't open the bottle, and he almost threw it away before Tony caught it.

“Hey, it’s alright. Happens to me too, it’s fine. I know sometimes the hands just don’t work, when…” The plastic cap gave in and Tony put the opened bottle back in Matt’s hand. “There. I guess the ropes don’t help, right?”

Matt didn’t answer; he just drank. He was fine, just thirsty. His hands were working fine too, it was just the dehydration. He was just dehydrated, no big deal. “Be out of your hair quick.”

“Oh no you won’t. You can barely sit upright, sugarpie; you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not your prisoner.”

“Of course not, but you have to see you should – ”

_“I can’t see anything!”_

That shut Tony up for a moment. “Okay, but this is the second time you’ve said that.” Matt kept silent. “And you really couldn't make sense of the drone’s interface, right?” Tony’s fingers landed on his cheek, right under the mask. “Would it help if I took it off? Would it be, would you see better?”

Matt shook his head.

“Okay. Can I?”

The smart answer was to say no. Matt wanted to say no, and he wanted to say yes, and so he didn’t say anything. After a while, he managed a tiny nod, barely enough for Tony to feel it against his fingers.

The mask went away, and Matt heard Tony’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck me. I’d thought about it but I figured – no way. But way, after all? I… You?”

Matt raised his knees and rested his forehead on them, the bottle dangling from his fingertips. “Figured you knew, or soon would. Pretty sure your AI has to know by now.”

“I did not,” the cold, inhuman voice said. The harmonics, Matt thought idly. The harmonics were missing. “Since Sir asked me to store as little of your – Mr. Murdock’s – personal data as was absolutely necessary for security purposes, I engaged privacy protocols.”

“Aw, JARVIS, you’re great.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“What the hell does it even mean,” Matt mumbled.

“It means every time my systems saw an exact match between your civilian identity and Daredevil’s, the findings were deleted. However, I’ve now just rematched them all since you have voluntarily revealed yourself to Sir.”

“You’re the best AI ever, JARVIS.”

“You programmed me, Sir.”

“I sure did.” Tony sounded pleased with himself, but it didn’t help Matt’s mood at all.

He dropped the empty bottle and found the can of beer, but his fingers didn’t want to deal with the tab and his head was still full of all the noises and Tony kept talking to his AI and…

“ _Shut up!_ ”

JARVIS and Tony abruptly stopped their chatting; he must have shocked them. He didn’t care.

“What’s wrong? What – Jarv?”

The constant, nauseating, humming and buzzing sharply diminished to something much more manageable, and Matt sighed in relief.

“From what I understand, Mr. Murdock has extremely keen senses. This would explain how he can spot the stealth drones.”

The AI paused, and Matt mumbled a, “Yeah.”

“I realized a lot of what is in this lab relies on electricity, so I shut down all non-essential equipment.”

“Okay, good. Is that better?” Tony asked, but his hand landed on Matt’s shoulder and it was suddenly too much, too much pressure pushing him down and he needed to move and – “Whoa! Hey, that’s all right, I’m not touching you. Matt?”

“I,” Matt said. “Yeah. Thanks. Yeah, better.” He started again on the metallic tab. He really wanted that beer.

“You, uh. Don’t like to be touched?”

“It’s fine.”

“Not really, no.”

“I just don’t like… being trapped.”

“If I may,” the AI said.

“Jarv?”

“Mr. Murdock, I have extrapolated from the data at my disposal that you were caught under the collapsing – ”

“Stop. Stop right here.” Matt stopped trying to open the can, grabbed his mask from the floor, and pushed against the wall; he wanted to get to his feet and leave and never, ever come back. Never be anywhere near Tony Stark or Tony Stark’s AI or Tony Stark’s Tower or…

“Fine, stopping, I’m stopping, Jarv is stopping too, no worries; but you can’t even – there, there’s a chair to your right, just sit down, okay?”

Matt held out his hand until it found the leather, and he almost pushed the chair away. Leather, a _leather_ chair, of course; fancy and expensive and this was not his world, what was he doing here? But he was (more or less) standing only because he’d locked his knees and he didn’t really have a choice; he let himself fall into the stupid chair. The blanket he’d left on the floor landed on his back and he wrapped it around his shoulders. He felt cold, even if he was pretty sure the temperature hadn’t dropped.

“Look, I’m not sorry the armor saved you, and I’m not going to apologize for that. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you…”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t you try to pull the wool over my eyes, Mr. D.”

Matt startled, then remembered he was still holding his mask in his hand. He threw it at Tony’s head.

“Seriously? Don’t like my jokes, then? I pity the wool who…”

Matt groaned. “Please, just stop.”

“Aw, now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings,” but there was a smile in Tony’s voice.

“Do you _have_ feelings?”

“I do; I got a heart, even! Wait, I have proof somewhere.” Tony’s footsteps echoed in the large room; now he could pay a bit more attention Matt realized it had to occupy an entire floor of the Tower. “There,” Tony said when he was back. “This is it. There are words on the – yeah, there.”

Matt’s fingers had found them. “ _Proof Tony Stark has a heart_ ,” he read out loud. “What is it?”

“My first arc reactor,” Tony replied. “The one I made in Afghanistan, to keep my actual heart beating. Without it, the shrapnel… well. It saved my life.”

Matt turned the… _arc reactor_ in his hands. “You don’t need it anymore?”

“I got a new one.” Tony’s voice shook a bit. There was a story there, Matt thought. “It’s a long story, but… that guy I trusted tried to kill me and the one you’re holding here saved me again. Anyway, I don’t need one anymore, the shrapnel was removed. My heart’s fine now.”

“I guess people often try to kill you?”

“Yep. But Obie – damn, Obie was a special case. Used my own prototype, a paralyzing weapon, on me. Couldn’t move.” Tony paused. “You know how it is.”

Matt swallowed. “Yeah,” he croaked.

“I had nightmares for… anyway.” There was a click and the sound of air being released, then cool metal against Matt’s fingers. “Let’s have that beer.” He opened another can, and Matt heard him drink some. “Go on, it’s not poisoned.”

“No?” Matt smiled a little. It was a Budweiser; he could smell it. The same kind his dad kept in the fridge and that he sometimes cooled his hands on after a long day at the gym.

“I promise it’s really cheap beer, too. I have this friend, you just can’t get him to drink anything else, I swear! I’ve tried to educate his palate but you know what? He’s made me drink this instead. He’s made me _want_ it! I don’t even like it but sometimes I crave a Bud; can you believe it?”

Matt slowly relaxed into the chair, Tony’s non-stop chatter in his ears and the alcohol in his veins combining to send him into a light doze. He was pleasantly warm, and Tony’s words – at him, at his AI, and then at himself when Matt stopped answering – were like having the radio on low at night, just to have some company as you slept.

The sound of a large metal thing clanking on the floor jolted Matt awake.

“Huh – where…” The smell of cologne, burnt things, and coffee clued him in. “Oh,” he said.

“Sorry about that,” Tony said. “You looked like you needed that nap.”

“What time is it?”

“Early. Late? I don’t know; JARVIS?”

“3.30 am.”

“There you are.”

Matt pulled the blanket down and failed to suppress a shiver. “I should go home, let you sleep.”

“Are you joking? It’s, like, early evening for me. The party’s only starting!”

“Not the kind of party one expects from Tony Stark,” Matt said. His voice was still rough; he tried not to remember why.

“Yes, well, I love to spit in the face of expectations.” Tony came closer. “Hey, you want to stay here tonight?”

“… stay here?”

“I’ve got plenty of room; you can have a suite all to yourself, no one will bother you, I promise.”

“I…”

“Or I can drive you back to Hell’s Kitchen, no worries; it’s just…” Matt was reeling a little bit; he was still a bit slow from his impromptu nap. “Look, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone tonight, okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Someone’s got it in for you and your face is still the color of this mug,” and Matt heard the click of a nail on ceramic. “Uh, I mean, white. Very white.”

“But…”

“And you’re not working tomorrow, right? Tomorrow’s Sunday. Today, whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Oh.” Matt leaned back into the chair, his head lolling against the backrest. “But mass is at 8.30.”

Tony sighed. “I think God can do without you for once; you look done in. You’d do better to sleep.”

“No.” Mass fed his soul, and then maybe he’d have time for a chat with Maggie; he couldn’t stay. “Where’s my mask?”

“You threw it at my face, buddy; it’s your fault if you lost it. Is anyone expecting you at mass? Apart from God, yeah, I get it.”

Matt sighed. “Maybe.”

“Fine, then you can text them you can’t come, see you next time, yadda yadda?”

“No.”

“You like that word, don’t you? All right, is it the nun on the phone the other day? What was her name, Maggie? I have her number somewhere; you gave it to me. We’ve been in touch about St. Agnes, remember?”

Matt wanted to say No, but sadly he couldn't. He nodded.

“I’ll send her a message you worked late and I put you up tonight, okay?”

“She’s going to have other ideas.”

“Oh, really? Interesting.”

“I _meant_ that she knows what I do. She’ll worry.”

“Aw, nice. But she’s a nun, right? She… approves of it?”

Good question. Matt wasn’t entirely sure sometimes, but whether it was because she had moral objections or because she didn’t like the risks he took… “I just don’t want to miss the service.”

“Fine, you won’t. I’ll drive you, all right?” Matt opened his mouth but Tony went on without letting him say anything. “I’m pretty sure you can wear one of my suits, we’re about the same size. They won’t fit you quite right, but then again you don’t wear bespoke, so you’ll look fine. Unless you’re good with jeans and – look, what do you wear to church? I’ll have it delivered by, say, 7? 7 is good, yeah?”

“Your suits are silk and alpaca and…” Matt shook his head. “I’m not wearing that.”

“How would you know?”

“Different fabrics make different sounds.”

“Wow, that’s… okay, not the time. Look, I’ll show you to a room and you can crash there, and then I’ll loan you jeans and sneakers and you’ll be good to go, right?”

But Matt didn’t want to sleep in a fancy bed; he didn’t want…

“Whoa there,” Tony said as he caught him. “Sorry, sorry, touching you bad, I know, but I had to. Okay, just… right, yes, okay, you’re good.”

Matt kept a hand around Tony’s biceps to steady himself, but he was standing at least. “I stink,” he said.

“There’s… kind of a whiff, yeah. All rooms have a…”

“Tony, _no_. It’s just… I just… It’s too much.” Too fancy, too much money, too much everything.

“Okay. I have an old, comfy sofa and a simple shower on this floor if that’s more your speed. But you’ll hear me typing and talking all night long.”

“I don’t mind.” He was used to hearing people around him all the time, after all.

And finally, he let Tony lead him to the nice, simple, easy shower. Ten minutes later, he was sound asleep on the sofa.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt Murdock was one contrary son of a bitch with a death wish, but he was also really cute when he slept. Tony had gotten him out some old, shapeless sweats as sleepwear and now he was lingering in the doorway, looking at Matt’s relaxed face like a creep. But he’d never seen him so loose, and it was… well, it was charming. Tony was charmed.

And a creep, so he finally left Matt to his pillow and went back to the bench he’d been working at earlier. The lights were still low to keep the electric noise, or whatever it was that bothered Matt, to a minimum; it made for a reflexive atmosphere.

“Well,” Tony said to no one. “The more you know.”

He tried to focus on his work, but he kept remembering things – Matt’s panic, his wide eyes when he’d finally taken the mask off, his belligerence about the smallest things. His refusal to miss worship; the face he’d made when he realized Tony had given him water first.

“I’ve taken the liberty to order a cane and glasses like those Mr. Murdock uses,” JARVIS said. “They should be here momentarily.”

“Right, yes, forgot. Good call, Jarv.”

“Sir,” and there was an uncharacteristic pause that made Tony look up. “I have also found information about Sister Maggie.”

“Information. Information that you’re not volunteering right away because…?”

“The privacy protocols have been lifted, but I am not certain this doesn’t fall under regular privacy considerations.”

“Is it important?”

“Define important.”

Tony thought for a moment. “Does it put anyone in danger?”

“No.”

“Well.” Tony, of course, was dying to know, but… “Leave it, then. If I’m not supposed to know, then I shouldn’t pry.” Pepper would be proud of him, right?

“Should I delete the data?”

“Could it be useful?”

“It is hard to say, Sir.”

“All right. Then I’ll trust you to do as you see fit.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Tony squashed the urge to ask JARVIS to spill anyway and focused on the code he wanted to wrap up before – he couldn't believe it, but before mass. Because yes, _The_ Tony Stark was going to go to mass in a few hours.

That was going to be a trip down memory lane, for sure.

Matt looked pretty good when he emerged from the sleeping nook at 8, and not only because he was wearing Tony’s own jeans, sneakers, and shirt.

“You ready for Jesus? We’ll go somewhere for breakfast after that, I know a great place…”

“Tony.”

“… does the best waffles you’ve ever had, I swear; you’ll love them! And the coffee…”

“Tony.”

“…what?”

“You don’t have to come. You already didn’t have to do any of this.” He pinched the shirt between two fingers. “Silk, uh. I appreciate you’re lending me yours instead of buying, but you really…”

“Don’t like it?”

“I…”

“Because I noticed you have silk shirts which, given the kind of suits you usually wear, is… surprising.” Matt’s hands fluttered as if looking for something, and Tony realized what was missing. “So JARVIS got you a cane for today; it’s on the table to your left.”

Matt slid his knuckles on the table until they knocked into the cane and the glasses, and he frowned. “ _They’re_ new.”

“Didn’t want to break into your apartment to get yours; Pepper says it’s not how you make friends.”

 _Friends?_ Matt’s eyebrows said.

“So, uh. Yeah, I like silk too.” Tony glanced at his watch. “Okay, so as much as I’d like to tell you how nicely those jeans fit and that hey, the unshaven look suits you, we should get going. What are you feeling like today, sports car or SUV or…?”

“Well, I don’t drive.” Matt grinned. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, no. Question still stands though,” Tony added as they got into the elevator down to the garage.

“Uh, something… something with an engine that sounds good.”

The doors opened and Tony guided them to the smooth, fast, and (of course) expensive selection. “You know what? We’re going to take one that will match your glasses.” The Bugatti, precisely. “You’re right in front of the passenger door.”

Matt felt for the door and startled when it opened by itself. Tony grinned; his additions to the cars were _the coolest_. “Match them how?”

“Flashy and red, sweetcheeks, flashy and red. And then I’ll take you for a spin on a private track, what do you say?” Maybe he’d never get to make Hot Lawyer all disheveled himself, but he sure was going to try and blow his mind, if not – right, not now. Now was church time. “Hop in; we don’t want to be late, do we?”

They got to the church just in time. Tony saw a few double-takes when the regular church-goers realized who was joining them that morning, but the service was about to start and apart from the occasional, “Hi Matt, how’s it going?” there was no time for more conversation. They squeezed in at the back of the church and Tony braced himself for an hour of boredom; hopefully, he could distract himself by people-watching and especially Matt-watching. He briefly considered getting his phone out and doing some work, but he didn’t want to reflect badly on the guy he (yes, fine, Pep was right) had a giga-crush on.

But then, the ritual started to throw him back into old memories: memories he’d buried deep in his mind, as far away from his conscious thoughts as possible. He remembered going to mass as a young boy, holding his mama’s hand tightly, his only horizon that of rows upon rows of legs. He remembered the words, the responses, and how proud she had been for his First Communion. He did it all for her; he went to mass with her every Sunday; he went to Sunday school, and he was a very good little Catholic boy. Apart from the fact he didn’t believe, of course; dad said religion was for fools and he still wanted Howard to like him, back then. But he also wanted to be with his mama, and his mama had faith. He’d always been a disappointment, hadn’t he?

“Tony?”

He startled; the whisper hadn’t been loud but the hot puff of air against his ear had thrown him back into the present. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

“You alright?”

Tony turned his head to give his best PR smile in answer, but the glasses reminded him that Matt wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t fool him that way. “Sure,” he said instead.

“You’re, uh, breathing weird. And your heart… do you want to leave?”

Shit, yeah, super-senses or whatever you called them. “Nah, I’m fine. Just being reminded of stuff, is all. No biggie.”

Matt didn’t look convinced, but he turned his head back in the direction of the altar and the priest and didn’t say anything else. A few minutes later his shoulder brushed Tony’s as they stood up; when they sat back down their fingertips touched. Tony kept the contact until the end, and Matt never pulled away.

Once mass was over, Matt made to walk to the front of the church before looking – well, not-looking – back at Tony.

“I, uh. Would you like to meet Maggie? Sister Maggie?”

Oh. He hadn’t thought of that, but why not? “Sure, since we’re here. She won’t mind, yeah?”

“If she does, she’ll let us know.”

Well. That was slightly ominous, but Tony was game. “She’ll love me; everybody loves me.”

“Oh, do they?” Matt’s grin was way too challenging; he had no right to challenge him. Tony Stark was charming, and he was going to prove it by charming the socks off that nun… if nuns had socks. Right? Right.

But once in front of her, Tony realized he was going to have to work at it. Sister Maggie took one look at him, top to bottom, then after a quick glance at Matt said, “Didn’t think _you_ went to church.”

“I usually don’t, Sister.” He added a few megawatts to his polite smile. “But I used to as a boy.”

“Hm.”

“He actually knew all the responses,” Matt said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“And I wasn't expecting you to bring Iron Man to this little church, much less come here wearing his clothes. God’s will be done in unfathomable ways, sometimes.”

Oh boy. And Matt was no help; the blush was cute but damning. “We, uh, talked about my visiting the orphanage on the phone.” Maybe that would soften her? “We were about to get some breakfast; would you care to join us? We could talk about it some more.”

“A late breakfast, eh? No, I’ll leave you to it. Young men like you need to keep up their strength after a long night, I’m sure.”

“It’s not like that,” Matt ground out.

“Oh, really? Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Not here!” And _that_ was an impressively loud hiss.

Finally, her eyes crinkled and she poked at Matt’s side. “Well, I do approve of the hearty breakfast. You should put on some layers over those bones, kiddo. Good padding for when you _fall down stairs_.”

“Or stab yourself while cooking,” Tony added.

“Or that, yes.”

Okay, fine, he liked her. Matt’s pout was highly entertaining to watch grow with each of her remarks, too.

“You’re ganging up on me,” he whined.

“I’m sure you deserve it. Mr. Stark,” she went on, “would you consider coming by this afternoon, meet some of the children? The younger ones will be at the park, but it could be a start. Try it on for size, see if you want to do it again. Less of a commitment than meeting all of them at the same time, too.”

“You could show them your fancy car,” Matt added entirely unhelpfully.

“But I’d planned…” He’d planned fun things; waffles and a drive with the top down, AC/DC blaring from the speakers; after that a few laps as fast as the Bugatti could go, which was pretty fast, and maybe dinner at some expensive place. He’d planned to wow Matt. But now they’d asked him to be nice to kids who’d lost their parents, and he remembered… True, he’d been older, but that only meant it had to be – yeah. He had to be there; he couldn’t let them down, right? He’d promised he’d come, and so he would. “Nah, you’re right; it’s a good idea.”

“Did you have _better_ plans?”

“Um…” He glanced at Matt, and her lips twitched.

“I see,” she said. “Well, it’s still early; you have plenty of time left in the day. Just be here by, say… 4? I’ll get the kids to bake cookies, that’ll occupy them until then.”

“4?” Tony grinned. “Well, I can definitely take you to the track before it’s cookie time, drive some fast laps.”

Matt looked tempted but finally shook his head. “I really shouldn’t…”

“Aw, but have you ever driven really fast, felt your hair in the wind, the engine roaring in your ears?”

“I have, actually.” His voice took a slightly different quality, as if he was lost in a long-ago memory. “I wasn’t actually driving, of course, but… yeah.” Tony wondered what the story was, there.

“And did you like it?” Maggie asked. Matt didn’t reply, but his face was answer enough. “Go on, Matthew; have some fun. It’s not a sin,” she added gently.

Tony felt this deserved finger guns. “Look, the Church approves! C’mon, it’s waffle time now.”

Waffle time was a success: Matt enjoyed the food, and he guzzled coffee not quite to Tony’s own levels but still in respectable quantity. Tony watched him relax a bit more with each mouthful, finally ending all loose-limbed and smiling and taking most of the seat on his side of the table. Tony’s crush was definitely not showing any sign of lessening.

“Are you ready for some joyriding now?”

“It’s your own car, that you’re planning to drive on a private track. Legally speaking, that’s not quite joyriding.”

“And are you speaking from experience, Matty Mason?”

“My experience as a lawyer?” Oh, he was doing the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth, innocent choir boy face.

Tony was not, of course, buying it for one minute; he clicked his nails on the table’s plastic cover as obnoxiously as possible.

“Oh, fine. Back when I was in law school, there was this, uh, student. She could have bought any car she wanted, but sometimes she just… stole them. Drove them around, fast as she could, all through the city.” He looked wistful and a bit sad, and Tony regretted asking the question.

“With you,” he said.

“With me. Presumably without too, but for a while… with me.”

“Sounds like you had fun.”

“Yeah. Yeah, for a time… best time in my life, really.”

“What happened?”

“She, uh. We parted ways. We weren’t free back then, not really. Stealing cars… that was what freedom she could carve out, and she took it.” He drained his coffee and forced a smile on. “Tony Stark or not, she’s a tough act to follow. Just so you’re warned, I’ll be hard to impress.”

“You know what?” Tony put a few bills on the table and stood up. “Challenge accepted. Prepare to be blown away.”

Tony put all his skills into it, first to maneuver out of Manhattan and then on the drive to Long Island. But Matt only smiled a little condescendingly, and the only thing blown away was his hair once Tony could hit the gas pedal a little. Matt was basking in the wind and sun, and even once they were on the race track he never reacted to any display of skill. Tony threw himself into it; he took sharp turns, accelerated the second he could, narrowed his eyes and tried to beat his record best in this car, but to no avail. Matt moved with the car but showed absolutely no fear. Or maybe, Tony thought, he enjoyed it. Maybe he had no _healthy_ sense of fear, but took it only as a challenge to face and overcome.

After some of his best work – Jo even agreed with Tony on that one – he gave up and drove the car back to the paddock for a quick checkup before the drive back to Manhattan.

“So?”

Matt’s smile widened. “That was great,” he said.

“Great? You didn’t give a fuck!”

“Oh, I did,” and Matt stretched obscenely, all long lines and a deep, satisfied sigh. “I just like making you work for it.”

He got out of the car once it was parked, unfolded his cane with a snap of the wrist, and left Tony gaping at the wheel.

 _What a little shit_. Tony was officially in love.

On the drive back to Manhattan, Matt sprawled on the leather seat and actually fell asleep, so Tony slowed down a little and stole glances at the way Matt’s disheveled hair fluttered in the wind. How could Hot Lawyer, who was also Vigilante With A Great Ass (And A Death Wish), make the one and only Tony Stark go to mass and very soon eat kids-baked cookies? Because he knew he would, Hot Lawyer and Snarky Nun would guilt him into it and he’d cave in.

Worse, he realized once he was standing with a surprisingly edible cookie in his hand and a little girl demanding to know more about his cool magic lasers ( _not_ lasers, but she insisted): how could he let those kids climb in _his_ car and touch everything with their little grubby hands? Sure, he was keeping an eye on them and Sister Maggie’s glare was enough to calm down the more excited ones, but still. One after the other, they got into the driver’s seat and pretended to pilot it, shrieking like banshees; Tony didn’t have the heart to shoo them away. _There’s a parking lot at the back for the deliveries and buses,_ the Sister had said. _Your car will be safe there,_ she’d said.

Scheming, that was what it was.

Tony went along with it for an hour and thought not having to deal with all of them at the same time was a great idea, although for his next visit he might come _sans_ car. He was well aware he was letting his crush on Matt push him into things he’d have rejected right away before, but really – the children were a small price to pay to see Matt like he’d never seen him before today, all happy smiles, teasing, and casual clothes – which, fine, were Tony’s, but that only made it better.

Not so long ago, he might have tried to bring Matt back to the Tower; he’d have taken him to a fancy restaurant and suggested a few more drinks at his place and hoped for the best outcome. It had worked well in the past, after all. Seduction, consummation, a parting of ways in the morning; lather, rinse and repeat. But with Matt? He felt like he’d just peeled the top few layers, and now he wanted to peel a few more, get to the core of him. Matt, who was Daredevil, who was Catholic, who enjoyed expensive cars but balked at the idea of Tony lending him a Prada suit.

“I should get back home,” Matt said once they were alone in the small parking lot.

“It’s early; we could get dinner somewhere. Or you could come and meet…”

“I’d rather not.”

“You didn’t even let me finish. Don’t you want to meet, say, Cap? Everybody wants to meet Cap!”

“And how would you introduce me, ‘that lawyer you hired’? That wouldn't be weird at all.”

“You’re not just a lawyer.”

“What else I am, doesn’t do teams. We don’t…” Matt sighed. “Look, I had a great day; you saved me last night and you lent me your own clothes and it’s been – good. Really good.”

“But?” There was a but coming, Tony was many things, but he wasn’t stupid.

“But I work for you, for one thing. You pay me.”

“And the other thing?”

“We don’t run in the same circles, either of our identities. We aren’t from the same world, Tony.”

“You said it yourself, I hired you. Doesn’t that put us in the same circle?”

“It’s not an equal-to-equal relationship and you know it.”

“And wouldn't you – other you – benefit from having backup sometimes? You take a lot of risks, and you’re wearing, well, _wool_. I could make you something so much better; I could help you, make you tech and a suit and…”

“No.”

“Maybe better weapons too…”

“No. Tony, _no_.” One of Matt’s hands left his cane to find Tony’s arm. “Look, I’ll give you back your clothes the next time we meet for work, or if it’s too awkward I can send them to you; but we shouldn't… this was a one-time thing, and tonight I have to go back out. I have work to do, and it’s not going to wait for me to be in the right mood to tackle it.”

“But you left your stuff at the Tower; you have to come pick it all up at least.”

“I have spares; it can wait.” Matt’s hand squeezed Tony’s arm and flew back to the cane, leaving a cold patch on Tony’s skin. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks, Tony. Really.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving Tony to wonder who Matt Murdock really was between all those he’d met in less than a day: the attorney and the vigilante, the flirt and the church-goer, the man who liked to be driven around in a Bugatti and the _pro bono_ lawyer who didn’t want to work for the rich.

All Tony could say was that he wanted to know more.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt tried to plan ahead as he walked back home, the familiar sound of his cane on the ground in his ears. He was a bit tired, and it helped him focus his thoughts. He needed to stop the Owl’s plans but his brain kept going back to how Tony’s heartbeat would go a little bit faster whenever Matt flirted back, to the smell of the blanket in Tony’s workshop. He’d expected Tony to live in luxury, and he did; but Workshop Tony… was surprisingly ordinary. He slept on an old couch in a corner of a sleek-sounding, enormous room where everything hummed with electricity; he drank coffee by the gallon and he certainly wasn’t wearing those expensive, bespoke suits Foggy lusted after. The jeans he’d loaned Matt were comfortable and good quality, but nothing Matt couldn’t have afforded to buy for himself if he’d really wanted to.

But that wasn’t what he was supposed to do now, Matt reminded himself as he took the stairs up to his apartment. The Owl was making a play for space in the city, lots he could buy for cheap and rent out to whoever would pay the most or dilapidated housings that would be quick to tear down and rebuild. Matt was pretty sure he was behind the collapse of the crane that had stalled construction on the skyscraper and made a couple surrounding low-rises a liability; they’d have to be demolished but potential buyers and renters of the tower were wary of another accident. Then there were the drug dens he’d relocated close to where he wanted to buy, making prices drop; the robberies and random muggings he’d orchestrated. Just the night before, Matt had tried to stop some of the Owl’s men from breaking into a jeweler's; it had only worked because the point wasn’t really a robbery, just to make the stats on violence worse. They’d been ready for police or vigilante intervention too, moreso than Matt had anticipated; without Tony’s save…

And he was back to thinking about Tony. Tony, who hadn’t mocked him for being terrified; Tony, who had gently teased him and made him smile and gotten Matt out of his head when he needed it. He folded his cane and hung it near the door, then made straight for the cupboard where he kept his gear chest. He needed answers; he needed something concrete to pin on the Owl and stop him for good. He couldn’t let him terrorize neighborhoods and drive people out of their homes just for his own profit.

He’d have a quick dinner, and then he’d be out again.

As soon as he got on his roof, Matt could hear the faint hum of one of Tony’s drones a few feet up in the air.

“Really,” he said. “Again.”

The drone flew down to hover close to him and it said, “Good evening, Daredevil. Mr. Stark has not rescinded his observation command, and I am to provide support if need be.”

“Does Mr. Stark not realize this is stalking? I’ve been doing fine for years.”

A decidedly not AI-originating cough came from the speaker. “Hey, D. Don’t diss the drone, yeah? I seem to remember it was quite useful not too long ago.”

“I’m sure I’d have been fine.” He wouldn’t, but why admit it? “Just… it’s distracting me, and I need to focus.”

“Aw, but I like…”

“Are you even allowed to have drones around New York, anyway?”

“Hm, should I ask a lawyer?” Matt sighed. “Fine, fine. Yeah, I cleared it, it’s cool. I won’t get arrested for it, contrary to…”

“Right.” Better stop that line of conversation now. “Look, I’m going to try and find more about Leland Owlsley; he’s well protected and I don’t need a drone to tip him off, alright?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be good. Just…”

Matt paused right before leaping to the next building over. “Yeah?”

“Be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” Matt replied.

He thought he could hear Tony disagreeing as he jumped, but all his concentration was ahead of him and he didn’t really pay attention. He had a mission, and he was going to do everything he could to stop the Owl.

Tony had followed through on his word, and the drone was far away enough that Matt couldn’t hear it. He’d managed to sneak into Owlsley’s offices and he’d stumbled on a planning session about a building one block west of St. Agnes. He knew the plot well; a lot of undocumented families lived there. He and Foggy had defended a few over the years, but even before that he’d gone to school with children who lived there after he’d moved to St. Agnes. Now, many of those he’d known then were still residents of Hell’s Kitchen. He had to do something, but what?

There were armed henchmen patrolling both inside the Owl’s headquarters and around it; Matt had managed to hide in a non-working elevator shaft that he knew was safe from the lack of electrical buzz around him, but he could still be found out at any moment: a wrong move, and he’d hit one of the old cables and make enough noise the guards would investigate. First thing was to leave and warn the people in that threatened building. If the Owl wanted to force them out by messing with the gas pipes or power grid they should be prepared, maybe keep an eye out; prevent the worst.

He pulled himself up to the trapdoor he’d gone through, but it was now blocked and he didn’t dare shake it open. Had he been made? He hadn’t heard anything on that floor, but then again he hadn’t really focused on anything other than the meeting room conversation. Matt worked his way up to another floor and found another trapdoor he could squeeze through, but it was rusted over and made a terrible ruckus when he pushed it a bit more open. Footsteps were coming closer, raised voices.

“Fucking rats again? Thought we’d blocked the door!”

First door was locked, second was open but there was no window; it was a broom closet.

“Yeah, but that was the floor below. I’m telling ya, we have to…”

Matt raised his batons right as they opened the stairwell door.

After that, it was all blood and adrenaline. He knocked their guns away but other guards swarmed the corridor and he was trapped between the elevator shaft and their weapons, without any cover. His only hope was that they’d hesitate before firing and risking hitting one of their comrades; maybe that could give him enough time to…

A shot rang, and Matt realized there were too many guns to track. He took a step back, another; the next one would be a jump into the shaft.

He didn’t get to decide; a bullet hit him and he lost his footing. Down he went, hitting chains and cables and other things sticking out into the shaft until his fall was broken by… something. Padding? His side was on fire and he felt wet and sticky everywhere, but he couldn't stop. The guards were hurrying down to meet him wherever he’d landed – a bunch of fabric and… carpeting? Oh. The inside of the broken elevator car, torn off and piled up in the middle. Maybe a squatter’s bedding once; it didn’t matter.

He had to escape.

Look for a way out, fall to his knees, push himself up again; find a basement storage room, then a door, then a tunnel; crawl in there, scare rats away, end up in a subway service corridor, hide in an electrical closet when hearing footsteps…

“It’s fucking dark in here; go get us flashlights!”

“Aw man, rats again? I hate rats!”

It all turned into a confusing mess of sounds and smells and pain; the only thing in his mind was _Get away from here, Get away_ – it was his only goal, the only thing still keeping him moving forward. He couldn't tell if they were still after him, he just knew he had to move forward, and forward again, hide if he couldn't.

And then he knew nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony was a bit disappointed he couldn’t ogle Matt’s butt as he’d hoped and also a bit worried after last night, but then again Daredevil had been active for a few years now and he’d survived so far. If he was asked to give him space, then he would. The last time he’d let fear drive him it had ended in the birth of Ultron, so maybe he should… take a step back, right?

Right.

So he went back to his bench, narrowed his eyes at the misbehaving gauntlet, and got to work. Cap would give him The Look if he didn’t have the latest armor on for their next mission, and Tony didn’t like The Look. He’d tried to explain that no, using an older model wasn’t that risky, but Cap wanted them all to use the best and latest equipment, so Tony worked on improving all their gear.

As he was working on the circuitry, he let his brain think on Matt’s own gear, or rather lack thereof. He used to have some sort of woven Kevlar suit and reasonably tech-y batons but he’d reverted to wool ( _wool!_ ) and two wooden sticks, and that irked Tony. Worse, he’d made it clear he wouldn't appreciate Tony’s interference, and that… well, that wasn’t reassuring. Tony particularly _wasn’t_ reassured after he’d seen some footage of what he was doing at night, taken on shaky phones and grainy security cameras. Not after his own drones had recorded Matt taking crazy risks, going after armed guys with just some rope around his fists and a total lack of self-preservation. Didn’t he want to live past forty?

Shit, he was going to tear the wiring apart if he continued like that; DUM-E was anxiously hovering near the fire extinguisher and that was never a good sign. Tony took a deep breath and loosened his grip on the screwdriver. Matt knew what he was doing; he was taking _calculated_ risks, right? He was experienced. Tony looked up and his eyes fell on the old armor he’d been wearing when he’d taken that bomb through the wormhole in the sky. It had been a calculated risk, too. He could have died; he’d been ready to die. It would have been worth it. The life of millions of people in the balance… even one life, just one life would have been worth it.

He dropped the screwdriver down on the bench and sighed. “Hey, Jarv, lock up after me, yeah?” He was useless in the workshop, but maybe he could try and look at some paperwork with a drink in one hand and a pad in the other. He’d been avoiding it for a while but Pepper would strangle him if he procrastinated any longer.

“Sir,” JARVIS said.

Tony rubbed his eyes. “Hm?”

“Mr. Murdock is severely injured. I have just spotted him near a subway service entrance; he is not moving.”

Shit. “Were you tracking him after all?” Tony got to his feet, pad in hand, and hurried to the elevator. “Show me.”

“I was tracking Mr. Owlsley in order to help with his investigation. Here is the drone’s video feed, sir.”

“Aw, you’re a smart cookie.”

“Not a cookie, sir.”

But Tony wasn’t really listening. On the screen, mostly hidden under cardboard boxes and a dumpster, Matt was weakly trying to get back up. There were dark, glistening stains on the cardboard and the wall behind him; a metal door a few feet away had a couple of bloody handprints on it too.

“I’m getting him back. Any hostiles around?” The elevator door opened and he looked at the armors in front of him. Which one?

“Guards with regular, non-augmented firearms; they haven’t found him yet.”

An armor built for speed would be enough, then. Tony stepped in, let it enfold him, and flew out.

Getting to Matt only took a minute. He’d finally lost the fight against unconsciousness and blood loss, and Tony’s throat tightened. The door behind him banged open and he raised a palm in its direction, not looking away from Matt.

“Try me,” he said. “Try Iron Man, see what happens.” The repulsor in his hand whined.

“We don’t have any beef with you,” one of the guys said. “We just, uh.”

Tony finally turned his head. He needed to fly Matt back to the Tower ASAP, not chat with those idiots; he’d already called Sandra’s team and told them to stand ready, because Matt should have the best Avengers medical care. “You have five seconds to get back inside before I make you regret your life choices.”

Most got back in. A few stood their ground and Tony blasted the fire escape above their heads; it fell down red-hot on them and as they screamed, he picked Matt up and flew back to the Tower.

This had already taken too long, and he wasn’t in the mood for niceties.

“How is he?”

“You’ve just brought him in, Tony; you have to wait.”

“You’ve been with him for ten minutes!” And they’d been very long minutes.

“He’s been shot; through and through. Deep contusions, lacerations… It’s not great, but mostly he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“We’re well-stocked, yeah? We can help.”

Sandra shook her head at him through the glass separating them. “He’s got a particularly rare type.”

“We’ve got O negative though, right?”

“Wouldn't work. You need to find family members; it’s our best bet. I’ve sent a request to the hospitals around but I doubt they have any.”

Tony looked at Matt on the gurney, a nurse cleaning his wounds and another suturing something to keep the blood in… but there wasn’t enough blood in, and Matt’s family? They were all dead. “Can’t you use Bruce’s artificial blood?”

Sandra pointed at an IV in Matt’s arm. “He said one bag, no more, and only if it’s that or certain death; it’s still experimental.”

“I trust Bruce!”

“It hasn’t been tested enough. Find his family, hope they share the same blood type. That’s all we can do.”

Sandra gestured at JARVIS to turn the glass opaque, and Tony was left staring at his own reflection.

“He’s going to die,” he whispered.

“Not necessarily.”

“JARVIS?”

“Mr. Murdock is -D-, there are about 110 donors worldwide. The chances are low that blood will be found quickly enough. However, he still has living close family.”

“Where?”

There was the slightest pause. “St. Agnes.”

Tony watched his own eyes widen in the darkened glass. “Holy… Maggie? Sister Maggie?”

“Yes.”

“Call the nuns, we’re getting her here.”

“We don’t know if…”

“Even if it isn’t compatible, she should be with him.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sending Mr. Hogan as we speak.”

Tony considered flying her back to the Tower instead, but he couldn't imagine leaving his vigil. “Yeah, alright. Get me on the phone with her as soon as you can, okay?”

“Of course.”

The Sister didn’t look like someone who’d been woken up and had thrown on whatever was on hand; she looked just as put together as she had earlier in the day at St. Agnes. Happy was trailing after her as she was making a beeline for Tony.

“How is he?” she asked. “Where is he?” Her voice didn’t waver.

“He’s in there.” Tony pointed at the OR behind him. “Did Happy explain…”

“Yes. And yes, I’m compatible.”

Sandra’s voice rang through the intercom. “Found someone?”

“That’s the doc,” Tony said. “Yeah, we have.”

“Can they donate?”

“Yes,” Maggie replied before Tony could say anything.

The door to the OR swished open and Sandra looked at her. “Really? Someone with that blood type should be on record, and no one is in the entire state.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t weigh enough, do you?”

“My blood is his blood.” The Sister strode past Tony and took the doc’s arm as she walked past her. “You will take it. He will live.”

Sandra glanced back at Tony before the door closed behind her.

“Wow,” Happy said. “You know her, boss?”

“Yeah.”

“When I got to that orphanage she was at the door, all ready to go. Said she had a bad feeling so she’d been waiting for that phone call.”

“Well, she was right.”

“She’s here now.” Happy bumped Tony’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine, boss. He has to; my niece is a big fan, you know?”

“She is?”

Happy grinned. “Yep. Said Double D’s even cooler than Iron Man, too. Tried to convince her he wasn’t, but I think the horns win over the jet boots.”

“They’re not jet boots,” Tony said with a huff. “And he’s not wearing the horns anymore.”

“Still. Cooler.”

“Kids,” Tony sighed. “Happy?”

“Yeah?”

“… you don’t agree with your niece, right?”

“Out of the mouth of babes, boss.”

“You’re fired, Happy.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony smiled a little. Happy was the best.

Dawn was pinking up the sky when Sandra came out again. Tony looked up from his pad and waited.

“Better,” she said. “You waiting out here won’t change anything.”

“Can I see him?”

“He’s already got one visitor, Tony.” He tried his best Sad But Soulful Look, but it didn’t visibly soften her. “Are you even close?”

“Uh. Kinda?” Well, he’d like to be. They were getting there, right?

She quirked her lips up and opened the door a bit wider. Victory! “He’s sleeping for now, but the Sister is awake. Just be quiet, okay?”

Tony threw his pad on the seat next to him and hurried in as Sandra disappeared somewhere else into the med wing. When he came into the room Maggie was sitting on a reclining chair next to the bed, a little pale but alert.

“Hey,” he said.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony. Thank you for getting him here. And then me.”

“Yeah, uh.” He looked around; there was a tray by her elbow with snacks and drinks but she’d hardly touched it. “Do you need anything?”

She shook her head. “As long as Matthew’s fine…”

Right. Tony took a deep breath and turned his attention to the bed. Matt was breathing on his own, and his face was drawn and colorless but otherwise mostly free of bruises or cuts. The IV line in his arm led to a bag that wasn’t blood but some clear, innocuous-looking liquid, slowly dripping into his veins.

“Sandra said he was shot.”

“Yes.” Maggie pointed at a slight bulge near Matt’s hip. “They’ve cleaned and sutured the wound. He’s survived worse, Tony,” she added gently. “God is with him, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

“And you.”

She looked away. “Tonight, yes.” There was something there, something Tony wanted to probe, but he knew better than to do that.

“Would you like a real bed, something more comfortable?”

“I’m fine.” Her lips twitched. “One of his favorite phrases. But no, really; I do not need anything. You look like you haven’t slept either.”

“Yeah, no, I just wanted to know…” He waved a hand at the bed. “Stay as long as you want, if you need anything just ask JARVIS. Say hi, Jarv.”

“Good morning, Sister.”

She looked up. “Hello?”

“Right, you’ve shaken hands, it’s all good. I’ll just, uh.” He pointed his thumb behind himself. “You know. Work.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Of course.”

“Right.”

Tony didn’t move.

“Are you going to work… here?” She made a production of looking around. “I suppose you have to make do with very little room here, makes sense to save space and put your office in the infirmary.”

“Hey! You don’t have to mock me just because he can’t right now.”

“He mocks you?”

“He’s terrible, a real little, uh, punk.”

“Oh, is he? Well. He comes by it honestly.”

“Family trait?”

Her eyes bore into his. “Ask, if you want to ask.”

“It’s prying. I didn’t want to be a jerk.” He didn’t always get it right but he was working on it, okay?

“Well, ask him when he’s awake, then.” She went to brush Matt’s hair with her fingers but drew her hand back before touching him. “The doctor said it should be soon; I’ll leave then.”

“Maybe he’ll want you to stay.”

“I have my duties at the orphanage, too. He was one of our wards; he understands.”

“But you want to stay.”

“The children need us. Matthew… he’s made his own family, now. You should call his partner, by the way; he worries when Matthew is late for work.”

Ah, yes, Foggy. “I will.” Tony scratched his beard; it needed a touch-up. “Ugh, I must look terrible.” Couldn’t have that.

“Yes, you clearly need a shave so you can look your best when Matthew wakes up.”

Did she wink at him? She couldn’t have winked at him; nuns wouldn't do that, but he was pretty sure she did. “Right,” he replied.

“Not that he’ll see it but it’ll make you feel better; I’m sure you need the confidence boost.”

Okay, she was making fun of him, _The_ Tony Stark. How low could the mighty fall, eh? Frankly, he quite liked it and, he realized as he mock-pouted at her before walking out of the medical wing, she’d also made him smile.

His footsteps lighter than when he’d gone in, he left for the penthouse, a nice hot shower, and a long workday that would make both Pepper and Jesus proud.


	8. Chapter 8

Matt clawed his way back into consciousness with fire in his side and Maggie’s voice reciting prayers in his ears.

“Urgh,” he tried. Not quite what he’d been going for, but…

“Matthew, thank God. Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said.

But nothing was familiar; apart from Maggie, everything felt cold and sterile. It smelled – it smelled like a hospital, and he hated hospitals. Out, he wanted out, but he could feel things going in and out of him and…

“Stop fussing. You’re in Tony Stark’s tower, and you were pretty badly injured last night. Your flying friend brought you back here.”

“Uh.” His muscles relaxed a little, but he still felt the hospital-ness of this place choking him. “Out.”

“Well, you can ask the doctor, but I doubt she’ll say yes.”

“Home. Please.”

“And what do you have to do that can’t wait?”

Matt tried to think. His thoughts were slow and heavy, and pain was radiating from somewhere to the right of his navel. What did he have to do? The Owl, people, the Kitchen, defending… work. “Foggy,” he finally said.

“You have to do Foggy? I thought he had a girlfriend already.”

Hey. But she was teasing him, so he couldn’t be that badly injured, right? He tried to roll on his less-bad side before getting up, but something – someone – was keeping him down.

“Matthew, no. Stay down, give your body time to heal.”

No. “No,” he said.

“Yes.”

Maybe if he could meditate a bit it would help but he could feel them in his veins, all those drugs that made him sluggish and slow and unable to focus enough. He tried to fight it, but he was slowly dragged under, kicking and screaming inside and limp and exhausted outside.

Foggy and Karen came in the afternoon. Maggie had left a few hours before, after a doctor – Sarah? Sandra? He couldn’t quite remember – had come to poke and prod him and declared he’d live.

“You can’t keep me against my will,” he told her.

“Right. And how are you going to go anywhere, pray tell?”

Why did people keep making fun of him? “I’m fine.”

“… right.” She sounded amused, and it annoyed him.

He suffered in silence as she changed the dressings on his wounds and patted his shoulder, and murmured his goodbyes when Maggie left. Tony hadn’t come to visit although he’d apparently spent the night on the medical floor, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that – of both things, in fact: Tony staying, and then disappearing.

“JARVIS?”

“I am here. How can I help?”

“Where’s Tony?”

An AI probably couldn't feel anything and so its mechanical voice wouldn't show any emotion, and yet Matt thought JARVIS was pleased when it answered, “Sir has been in meetings all day long, Mr. Murdock. He’s asked me to report on how you are doing; he is very concerned.”

“Can you – I ought to thank him. Is he free to talk?”

“I’m afraid not, not at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“No, just… thanks. He didn't have to do all this.”

“Sir likes helping.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Matt finally managed to sit up against the pillows. “He’s a decent guy.” Who sometimes played fast and loose with rules, but if he were honest with himself Matt didn’t have so much ground to stand on.

“I am certain he’ll be happy with your assessment.”

Did the AI just sass him? Was it ‘let’s all gang up on injured Matt’ day? But he didn’t have too much time to contemplate his plight, because then JARVIS announced the arrival of Foggy and Karen in the Tower. Matt hitched the cover a bit further up to hide the bandages he could feel peeking out, hoped he didn’t look as bad as he felt, and prepared his help-me-get-out-of-here arguments.

He just had to reassure them he was absolutely fine: he’d had worse before, right?

They somehow didn’t believe him when he said he could come to the office the next day and they insisted on taking him downstairs _in a wheelchair_ when the nurse started listing his injuries out loud. As if he hadn’t been shot before, really! Foggy said that particular argument wasn’t really helping his case, pushed him down in the chair, and ignored Matt’s protests. JARVIS directed them to the garage downstairs where Happy Hogan was waiting for them in yet another one of Tony’s cars. Sadly, it wasn’t the fast Bugatti.

“It’s not appropriate given your injuries, Mr. Murdock.”

“JARVIS’s right,” Hogan said. “Plus the boss said I should be especially careful to drive you all nice and smooth since he couldn’t do it himself. Don’t want to disappoint him, you understand; he already fired me last night. Gotta keep that job.”

“He what?” Matt’s outburst made him cough, which in turn made everything hurt ten times worse. Fuck it.

“I told him my niece likes Daredevil better than Iron Man. Hey, it was a joke,” Hogan hurried to say when Matt tried to push himself out of the chair.

Matt fell back and panted for a moment. He should have known; Tony wouldn’t… “Sorry, I just…”

“We’re kind of conditioned,” Foggy cut in. “You know, defense attorneys, evil employers, and so on. Uh, not that Tony Stark’s evil.”

“He’s a good boss.”

Hogan was a big guy, but also really gentle when he helped Matt in the car. The back seat was large and comfortable, and Karen and Foggy sat on either side of him.

“We’ll be your seat belt,” Karen said. “You probably shouldn’t wear one over your injuries.”

“I’m…”

“Shut up, Matt,” Fogs and Karen chorused.

He absolutely didn’t sulk for the duration of the drive.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony was finally out of his last meeting (with R&D, so at least it had been interesting) when he saw Happy waiting for him near the door. Wrapping up the conversation with Mei, Tony shook the last few hands and joined Happy.

“Sandra and JARVIS sent me a few updates, but… how did you find him? Isn’t it too soon for him to be back home?”

“I don’t think he’s the kind to stay where he’s told if he doesn’t want to.”

“Yes, but…”

“I know the type,” Happy said with a suspicious amount of feeling.

“You know – what, you mean… me? Nah, I’m a very good patient.”

Happy’s answer was a ringing silence.

“Yeah, okay, fine. But really, should he be alone?”

“He’s not alone; he’s got friends.”

“Still. I should have gone to see him, maybe convinced him to stay.”

“He wouldn’t have stayed.” Happy patted his shoulder. “Bring him a fruit basket tomorrow; that’s what people do.”

“Oh, yes! JARVIS, did you hear that? Scratch that, of course you heard it. So, fruit basket? Something big and fancy and healthy, yeah? I could even take it to him right now, make sure he’s got everything he needs. Yeah, that’s…”

“I do not think this is the best course of action,” JARVIS said.

“I didn’t create you to judge me, Jarv.”

“You wrote my code so I’d help you; this is what I am doing.”

“Jesus, Happy; do you hear that? My own AI gives me lip; I can’t believe it.”

“I can, boss. And JARVIS's right: better go tomorrow. He probably needs to rest.”

Tony sighed. “I guess you're right. Fine, tomorrow then. Gives me time to work on the Bugatti, yeah? I’m pretty sure I can tweak the engine to push it a little faster.” He’d take Matt for a spin, he’d love it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Happy looked skeptical.

“Well, do you think I can’t? Of course I can; you know me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Somehow, Happy seemed to mean something entirely different from what his words were saying.

Traitor.

Tony looked into the mirror. He’d styled his hair, manicured his beard, picked casual but nicely-fitting clothes, and _then_ remembered Matt, being blind, wouldn’t really care about any of it. At least he’d made the Bugatti faster… not that Matt was in any shape to enjoy it. Ah, shit.

Well, no time like the present. But…

“Hey, JARVIS.”

“Sir?”

“Call Rhodey, willya?”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony stared some more at his own face for the few seconds it took Rhodey to answer.

“Hey, Tones. How’s the new War Machine coming?”

Oops. “Uh, good, good. Almost done. Pop by next week, alright? You can try it on then.”

“Alright.” There was a clang on Rhodey’s side of the conversation. “Right, fixed that.”

“Really, is that how we’re calling it now?”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing. So, why am I thinking you’re not calling about War Machine?”

“Um.”

“Oh, wait, let me guess: is it this guy you have a crush on, the lawyer? Pepper mentioned him, said he was cute. Great ass, she said.”

“I’m bringing him a fruit basket.”

“You _what?_ ”

“It’s a thing people do, right? I’m going to his place, bearing… fruit.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Tones, it’s the middle of the afternoon; all good little lawyers are working right now.”

“Not this one, or he’d better not; he was shot last night.”

“Jesus, how?”

“Uh, long story. So, Rhodey, babe, sweetie pie, light of my life, just tell me: how do I look good for a blind guy?”

“Aw, I don’t know, some nice cologne or something?”

“Gotcha. Hey, maybe flowers too?”

“Well…”

“Chocolates?”

“Tones – ”

“He likes fast cars, but he’s supposed to stay home and heal for now and…”

“ _Tony_.”

“What about – yeah?”

“Tony, breathe. Why are you so worked up? You’ve been on a date before, right? Okay, generally not with people with bullet holes in them, but… what’s stressing you out? Does he like you?”

“… maybe?”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

“He says we don’t belong to the same world and that I’m his employer, that it can’t work.”

“So he’s into you.”

“You think?”

“He wouldn’t find excuses to push you away if he wasn’t; he’d just say no and keep it at that. He’s trying to convince himself, Tony.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“But it’s true; I did hire him, but I don’t want to fire him. Although,” he added, “he’s nearly done with the new and improved SI ADA policy I hired him for.”

“See? You’re good to go. Go get your man, Tones, yeah? Let me know how it goes.”

“But maybe…”

“And I got work to do, you know? Like, real work.”

“Oh, I see; you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m an important man with important things to do.”

Tony pouted at his own reflection. “More important than me?”

Rhodey snickered and hung up on him.

“But I wanted to ask if I should call him before going,” Tony said to no one.

“I can call Ms. Potts for you if you need more advice.” Ah, yes. JARVIS.

“No.” He had to make up his mind, right? “Send Matt a message; I’m going.”

“Yes, sir.”

There. He was a man of action, right?

Matt’s building looked a little run down, but was a perfect fit for the general Hell’s Kitchen vibes. Tony parked his Audi, got the fruit basket out of the trunk, and wondered why people thought this was a good idea for a gift. It was not a Tony Stark gift, but then again Tony Stark was many things and one of those was adaptable. He didn’t think Matt would appreciate being showered with expensive stuff, and fruit was… healthy? Good for you? Something he needed to recover, anyway. Probably.

So no Tony Stark, Global Hero and Mega Star, Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist. Not today. Today was getting a workout taking a giant stupid fruit basket up a stairwell with peeling, yellowish paint and more than half the light bulbs blown out. Not that Matt would mind that, of course.

Finally, he got to the right floor, the right door. He knocked, and waited.

“It’s open,” Matt said from inside.

Tony opened the door and got in. “I see security is a real concern of yours,” he said following the voice.

“What kind of jerk would come in and rob a blind man in his own home?”

“Me, apparently. Well, I’m not here to rob you, but…” Tony tried his best to smile so his voice would carry it, but he really didn’t feel like it. Matt was half-lying, half-sitting on a worn couch, wearing old sweats and a pinched expression, and looking like death warmed over. “Brought you something.”

“Hm. Fruit?” He sniffed. “One of the strawberries is rotten.”

Tony looked down into the basket. “Only one? How would you know?”

“A lot of good strawberry smells, and just a hint of rotten strawberry. If you don’t see it, then it’s hidden under.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it off before the others go bad.” And Matt’s nose was right, it was just the one; Tony plucked it out and put it aside. “Want something?”

“No, thank you.” Matt pushed on his arms and tried to sit up. It looked painful, but he finally made it. “Coffee? Beer? I’m sorry, I don’t have much.”

“I’m not here to – Jesus, how old is that coffee machine?”

“Works fine.” Wow, that was a particularly defensive tone there.

“I’m sure it does, but it could work _better_. Do you want me to – ”

“Just leave it, Tony.”

“… okay.” Tony took a step back, crossed and uncrossed his arms, stuck his hands in his pockets then got them out. “You in pain?”

“Why did you come? Why are you here, really?”

“Well, I brought you a fruit basket. That’s a thing, right? Happy said it’s a thing, and I thought maybe you wouldn't like…” He looked around. “… a new coffee machine?”

“Why are you spending money on me? Why not just get the basket delivered, at least?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I…” Matt shook his head, gingerly. “Sorry, I’m cranky.”

Yeah, that was pretty obvious. “Anything I can do to help? Do you have painkillers?”

“No painkillers. I just… I’m trying to find a way to take the Owl down or at least his current operation, but I can’t and now I’m stuck here and I – but that’s none of your business.” He waved in front of him, to the low table where a laptop was open. “Foggy sent the latest version of your new ADA compliance guidelines; we’re almost done.”

“Okay, that’s good. But I was hoping to find you, well, not working. I couldn’t come yesterday, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not; you were shot. You almost bled out, too. Sandra said you’re lucky to be alive, and that you had more horrific injuries in the past.” Tony paused. “Maybe better protection…”

“Tony, no. I’m not your pet project, alright?”

Prickly. Cranky, prickly, and claws out, but it only made Tony more charmed. Which, yes, fine, meant he had Issues, but then again, what else was new? “You’re not, I promise.” Okay, maybe a little, but Matt didn’t need to know that. And he wasn’t a project in the way Matt meant, anyway; Tony just… really liked him. Even when he was about as cuddly as a… an angry pufferfish. “I’m just worried.”

“Why is everybody using that word? Foggy is _worried_ , Karen is _worried_ , Maggie… doesn't outright say it at least, and now you? I don’t need your worry; I’ve been doing this for years! I…” He stopped and put a hand on his side, breathing carefully. “If God wants me to die, then I’ll die.”

“No one wants you to die.”

“Well,” oh, the shit-eating grin was back, “I’m pretty sure some people do.”

“But not people you want to please, yes? Stay alive to spite them and kick their ass!”

The grin morphed into something softer, and Matt relaxed against the backrest. “Yeah, okay; I get your point. I just… I hate this. I have too much to do and I let them get me; I should have been better.”

“Yeah, it sucks. But maybe I can – no, hear me out, maybe I can help on the business side? With Owlsley.” Matt didn’t look convinced and Tony got his phone out. “What do you have on him?”

“Nothing I can use in court; I know what he’s doing because I’ve talked to some people but so far he’s covered himself well. Nothing can be traced back to him: the guys arrested for the crane incident never said anything and can’t be linked to him, the properties he buys and everything that happens – the sudden plumbing issues or the electricity that shuts down; the burglaries and the rise in criminal activity… there’s just no proof. None that I can find, anyway.”

“JARVIS, you got all of that?”

“I did, sir. I will endeavor to find more patterns in the data available to me.”

“ _The data available to you?_ What kind of data? Would the court accept it?”

“Well, as I said, my drones can record many things _and_ they’re perfectly legal. Let me show you the kind of… Uh.”

“Tony?”

“I wanted to show you they get pretty good footage, good enough to see people’s faces and sometimes read lips; Clint’s helped us with that a couple of times. But that… wouldn't really help, I guess. If there’s video of Owlsley meeting someone, it’s of no help to you anyway.”

“But maybe to someone else.”

“Right, yes. There’s that.”

Matt reached out and took Tony’s wrist. “Thank you.”

You’re, uh. You’re welcome.” Holy shit, he was stuttering like a teenager with his first crush. “Just trying to help, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So can I get you a brand new coffee machine?”

Matt threw a pillow at him.

“Ow. Guess that hurt you more than it hurt me, though.”

“Worth it,” Matt replied with one of those happy smiles Tony was getting much too fond of for his own peace of mind.

 _Eh_ , Tony thought, looking at Matt. _Worth it._

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the old but surprisingly comfortable couch, watching movies on Matt’s laptop. The screen was shit but it wasn’t like Matt would care, and he had surprisingly decent speakers. They started out with _Rocky_ , of course; Matt said it had been hotly debated at his dad’s gym for years: shitty boxing, or good story…? How Matt could comment on Sly’s technique – from his memories of the film, of the arguments he heard, or of both? – remained a mystery. Probably both, Tony decided.

He managed to get some food into Matt; he wheedled out the name of what Matt considered comfort food and, horrified but game, Tony went to a grocery to get some Kraft mac and cheese. Jarvis would have fainted, but Matt’s suspiciously shiny eyes when he said that, or ramen noodles, was what his father could afford at the end of the month… Right. Not everyone had had shitty fathers who didn’t care.

So he bought some, heated it up, and they ate it together while _The Princess Bride_ played on the computer.

“Don’t you need the audio descriptions?” Tony asked after the first ten minutes.

“Nah, I watched it a lot when I was a kid. I tried it with the descriptions afterward, but I… well, my father did it for me a few times, then Foggy. The DVD descriptions don’t really compare.”

“Right.” Tony scratched his beard. “Uh, I can do it if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what to do, but I can try.”

“Please,” and Matt put his almost empty plate on the table in front of them and settled back on the couch, so Tony gave it his best shot.

Matt fell asleep halfway through, after a slow but steady slide down until he was lying more on Tony than on the couch itself. Tony let the movie play out until the end, enjoying Matt’s warm weight on him and finally throwing an arm around Matt’s (strong, _nice_ ) shoulders.

“Shit,” he mouthed to the ceiling. Looked like he had it bad, right?

Matt jolted awake at something only he could hear. Tony endeavored to keep him more or less flat on his chest so he didn’t hurt himself, and Matt relaxed once he’d really woken up.

“So I’m that comfortable, uh?”

“Oh,” Matt said. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Tony could see a frown coming, so he went on before Matt could tell him something stupid about Tony hiring him or whatever he was gearing up to rant about. “I doubt you were bored by the Dread Pirate Roberts; you must have needed it.”

“You have a nice voice,” Matt said and patted Tony’s chest. “From here.” His fingers kept exploring Tony then, staying a little longer where the largest scars were. “Horrific injuries, right? But you have a steady, strong heartbeat. It’s soothing.”

“I will choose to be flattered.”

Matt quirked his lips. “Please do.”

“As you wish,” Tony quoted, and he watched Matt’s smile widen again. “Hey, how did you get your heartbeat to stop, or whatever it is you did, on the day we recorded your biometrics?” That had been stumping Tony for a while; the equipment at the Tower was fine and showed no sign of having been tampered with and Sandra had said Matt’s heart rate was slow but regular, indicative of a healthy guy who exercised a lot.

“Ah, that.” Matt tried to push away from Tony but nope, Tony was having none of it; he clamped a hand around Matt’s biceps and brushed some hair away from his forehead.

Stay, Tony meant. He knew better than to say it out loud. “Yes, that.”

“Uh, it’s a trick a… friend taught me. Grew up in a monastery in Asia; he’s good at this stuff. Hiding the sound of your heart, slowing it down enough, breathing without disturbing the air… so I used it. I just was pissed at those security measures.”

“Yeah, I think we all got it.” It had been the topic of the week among the Security people at the Tower. “I’m glad you’re not, in fact, a vampire.”

Matt flattened his palm over Tony’s heart. “I’m glad you survived. You’re stronger for it, and I… I respect that. I admire it, even.”

Wow. “Big words.” Tony’s voice was a bit rough, but it didn’t break.

“You work at fixing your mistakes, at being better, at making the world better. That’s… Do you remember the sermon in church?”

“Please don’t say I’m a model for the Catholic Church.”

“Well, probably not. But neither am I, and I _am_ Catholic.” Matt licked his lips. His tongue was very pink, and it was giving Tony too many ideas. “Your heart’s racing,” Matt whispered.

“Oh yeah? Want to guess why?”

Matt blinked, his lips parted and shiny and… Tony was only human. He sat up, keeping very close to Matt, breathing the same air as Matt.

“Tell me if I’m misreading things,” he murmured. Matt shook his head slightly. “Good.”

Tony leaned in a little more, then a little bit again, and then – right as their mouths were about to meet, Matt jerked back. What the…?

“You have a beard? Not just… stubble?”

Wait, what? “Uh, kind of? Stylish goatee, looks great. Most famous beard in the world, I’ll have you know; it’s been on magazine covers and everyone calls it The Stark. People go to a barber and _ask_ for…”

“Shut up,” Matt said.

Then he kissed Tony properly.

Tony lost himself in the feel of Matt’s lips on his, of his fingers through Matt’s hair; it lasted for a good long while until a recorded voice said, _Claire, Claire, Claire_. Matt jerked and winced before trying to get up from the couch (well, from Tony) but he mostly managed a slow slide down between the back of the couch and Tony.

“I’ll get it,” Tony said. The phone had stopped ringing – well, speaking – but it might be important, whoever this mysterious Claire was; so Tony went to look for it. He wasn’t too happy to leave the warmth of the little nest of bodies, pillows, and one blanket they’d created on the couch but… duty called, or rather _Claire_ (not that he was jealous or anything). He found the phone on the kitchen counter and brought it back to Matt, who – well, who didn’t look so good. Okay, the messy bedhead and the red lips did, but he was also holding his side and frowning a little. Shit.

“Here,” Tony said, “on the cushion in front of you. Uh, you alright? Want some painkillers? Ah, shit, your bandages probably need changing, right? Didn’t think of it.”

“Well.” Matt took the phone. “We were busy.”

He twisted in a way that Tony didn’t like at all; he took Matt’s wrist and pulled it up to see his side. “You’re bleeding.” And Mr. I’m Fine knew it, hence the hiding maneuver. Tony should have known better.

“It’s nothing.”

“I’m calling Sandra; we should never have let you leave…”

Matt put the phone down. “What, you should have kept me in your Tower against my will?”

“No, not against your will!”

“Looks like it to me.” He sighed. “I’m going to call Claire back, first.”

“Claire.”

“Yes, Claire. She’s a friend.”

“Right.” Friends were good; Matt should have friends. Even friends he'd never heard of, because Tony wasn’t a jealous asshole. They’d just kissed once; there had been no promises, and he shouldn’t…

“She’s also a nurse.”

“Huh?”

“Claire is a nurse. She came this morning to change the dressings, and she said she’d call back at around…” He did something to his phone and it said, _7:12 pm_. “Yeah, right about now.”

“Oh.” And now Tony felt really stupid. Claire was a nurse friend who was coming to help, and that was precisely what Matt needed. “Good.” People having friends didn’t mean they only wanted Tony around for his money, right? And Matt didn’t want his money. Apart from being paid for the job he was doing, and that job was a problem but it was soon over, and…

“Tony.”

“I should go. I should go, right?”

“Tony, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Your heart is racing; you’re anxious about something.”

“I’m fine.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, and Tony swore. Damn. “I’m calling Claire.” He took a slow breath, continued: “I think you’ll like her.”

“Is she, like, a _hot_ nurse?” _No, no no no, not helping my case here_. “Sorry, that’s inappropriate, right?”

“A bit. And I’m told she is, yes.” He settled back on the sofa, phone on his chest. His face was tight; he needed those painkillers. Not that Tony had seen any around, but there had to be. “If you’re inappropriate around her, she’ll let you know. Don’t forget she’s got giant needles and scalpels.”

“Duly noted.”

Tony sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened to Matt’s quick phone call to the mysterious Claire. Looked like he’d learn a bit more about Matt’s life in about 20 minutes.

Claire was indeed a hot nurse, and a no-nonsense one. She walked in like she owned the place and seemed familiar with both the apartment and Matt’s character. She looked at Tony, measured him up, and tasked him with helping to get a grumbling Matt to his bed first.

“Sandra said you two knew each other, but she didn’t say you’d be here. You didn’t mention you had company either,” she added for Matt.

“Wait,” Tony cut in. “Sandra? You know Sandra?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tony raised his eyebrows at her over Matt, but she didn’t look charmed. Was he losing his touch? Playful flirty Tony Stark, not getting a smile? “We worked at Metro-General at the same time; we kept in touch. She knows I work with people like Matt, so she asked if I could do house calls.”

She snapped on some gloves and started peeling Matt’s stained dressings off.

“It doesn’t look great, does it?” Tony asked.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Well, I’m…” Matt smirked at him, and Tony didn’t finish his sentence.

“It looks way better than it should. Far from healed, but you’re moving and, well, not dead. You’ve been meditating?”

“Yeah.”

“It shows. You’ve managed to tear a few stitches; what have you been doing?” She started removing the threads that had become useless.

“Not what, who,” Tony quipped. That got him a supremely unimpressed look from her. “I mean, not like that, but, uh. I promise we’ve been good?”

“Whatever. Hold this,” she said, holding out an emesis basin at him.

“I don’t like to be handed things.”

She stared. He didn’t move. She stared some more.

“Why?” Matt asked. “Why don’t you like it?”

Tony looked down at the basin. It was filled with the old bandages that had been covering Matt’s wound. Nothing too bad, he could handle it. He hadn’t minded touching Matt, and his fingers had brushed the dressings. It was fine. He could do it.

“It’s cool,” he finally said as he took the basin. He could help, right? He should.

Claire soon finished her work and packed her supplies back into the bag she'd left on the kitchen counter, as Matt was trying to leave the bed.

“Stop trying to undo all my work.” She shut the bag and went back into the bedroom, sitting next to him. “Give yourself time to heal. Rest, sleep.” She glanced back at Tony. “Even if you apparently have more interesting things to do these days?”

Tony smirked.

“I never thought you’d go for rich businessmen who made their money on blood.”

His smirk faded. “Hey, I don’t sell weapons anymore.”

“He’s not that bad,” Matt said.

“That’s a great defense, counselor.”

Matt grinned. “Well, you didn’t hire me as your defense attorney.”

“You work for him? _You_ , Matt? Wow.”

“My legal team lost against him, so hey. He crushed me first.”

“Well, Matt has made even more questionable choices before in his love life.”

“Elektra…”

“Almost got you killed, as if you need help with that. Just… take care, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” She bent to kiss Matt’s forehead and he gave her a sweet, soft smile that she returned.

With a final threatening glare, Hot Nurse left the apartment and Tony was left a little reeling.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

“Wow.” Tony tried to find another word. “She’s hot, and she’s a little bit terrifying. I like her.”

“Mm.”

“Have you known her long?”

“Few years.”

“And how… oh.” Matt’s eyes were mostly closed, and he looked on the verge of falling asleep. Did she give him something, or was he that tired? But no, Tony hadn’t seen any syringe and she hadn’t left pills or anything. He was just exhausted, and Tony was overstaying his welcome. “I’ll let you rest now, all right?” he whispered.

“Mm.” One hand flailed about before falling back, so Tony managed to get some bedcovers over Matt so he’d be all snug and warm.

“You sleep tight, yeah? I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Stay?”

Well, it was tempting. But there was work to do, and he wanted to try and see what he could find on this Owlsley guy, and he was also pretty sure Matt would sleep better without him. “I should go. I’d like to stay, but… you rest, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

Still, Tony waited until Matt was fully under before leaving. And if he had a drone hover around the building to check for any suspicious activity or potential danger, well. You couldn't blame him for trying to make Matt, who’d been seriously injured, safer, right?


	10. Chapter 10

The sunlight, of course, never woke him up, but Matt could still feel the slight change in temperature that came with morning, the shift in the atmosphere and in the street noises. He rubbed his face; he needed a shave. His body was still throbbing, but he had work to do; there was the firm, there was the Owl. There was Tony, too, but he didn’t want to think about it. He’d let Foggy wrap up SI’s ADA policy instead; they were almost done. Matt was pretty sure he wouldn’t focus well on anything Tony-related.

He felt for his alarm clock to check the hour. _7:34 am_ , it said. Claire would call soon, and then… shit, his phone. Where did he leave it? He sat up slowly. The gunshot wound, yes, but also the bruises and contusions and… and everything. He checked his bedside table and found first a bottle of water. He didn’t remember – but Claire, Claire would have thought about it. He took it and drank, and when he’d drained it he carefully set it back on the table. His phone was there too; it was even plugged in. He didn’t remember doing it, but maybe Claire had.

Matt didn’t want to think it was Tony; Claire’s surprise the day before had been a warning call and now, after having slept on it… yeah. It just couldn’t work; they didn’t make sense. Foggy often said Matt tended to make the worst possible choices in his love life and he couldn't really deny it. Tony was – well, he could be sweet; he was smart and well-built, and he cared about the same things Matt did. Among other things. But the objections Matt had pointed out still stood, and he shouldn’t…

He shook his head. Call Foggy, clean up a little, maybe eat something. Work. Those were more important.

“So. Tony Stark, huh.” Claire’s fingers felt around his wound carefully. “Hm, looks good. Did he kiss it better?”

“ _Claire!_ ”

She laughed. “Well, what am I supposed to think, that you’re branching out into a new career as a gigolo, maybe a kept man? There are too many holes in you for that at the moment, Matt. Although you still look good half-naked.”

He felt himself flush. He should change the topic, but how…? Oh. “Uh, if you’d like to take some fruit with you,” he said with a wave in the direction of the kitchen, “help yourself. There's too much for me.”

“I am not going to take anything from your get-well-soon-and-wooing-present-combo, Matt.” She gently patted the fresh dressing she’d just put over his stomach and stood up. Her knees clicked. “Look, you could do a lot worse. You’ve _done_ worse. If you're happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“It’s not right,” he said. “We’re too different.”

“Do you have qualms because he’s got money, or because you can’t stand the idea you could be happy?”

“It’s not…”

“Uh-huh.” She zipped her bag closed; it sounded very final but there was a smile in her voice when she spoke again. “He likes you. It’s obvious he cares, and you wouldn’t protest so much if you didn’t like him too. Just give it a chance, okay? Give yourself a chance. You don’t have to give something up just because it could be good.”

“Hey, you gave me up!” He gave Claire his best wounded duck look, as Foggy called it.

“Because I’m too good for you, Murdock, and don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” And how could he? She made his soul feel a bit lighter as she was making his body better.

“I’ll see you tonight. Don’t you dare undo my work!”

She picked a banana from the basket and left the apartment, but Matt was pretty sure he could still hear her smile, somehow. He left the bed to sit on the couch, opened his laptop, and began working on one of the cases they’d taken up that seemed to have a connection with the Owl.

He startled when his phone rang. _Tony, Tony, Tony_ , it said. He picked it up.

“Hey.”

Tony hummed; he sounded pleased. “So, how’s my favorite lawyer? Are you resting in bed, as you should? Tried some fruit?”

“I’m fine.”

“Lying is a sin, right?”

Matt smiled. “I’m _improving_.”

“Good. Good, good. So, uh, I got some intel for you, about Owlsley. I think you’re going to like it.”

“Intel that I can use in court? I have several cases of people who have been driven out of their homes, or who had a string of strange incidents happen to them; I can’t pin it conclusively on him but I’m sure it’s him.”

“Can I bring it to you?”

Matt hesitated. Did he want Tony to come over? He had work to do, and if Tony was here… but he remembered Claire’s words, too. Maybe he could take that leap of faith, see where it led. He did that literally often enough; how different could it be metaphorically? “Okay.”

“I’ll get lunch too, yeah? And…”

“No coffee machine, Tony.”

“Can I bring mine?”

“And would you conveniently forget it here?”

“… maybe? Look, I need coffee like I need air; it’s not a gift to _you_ , promise.”

Matt sighed. “Just don’t forget what you have on Owlsley.”

“Aw, you’d throw me out if I didn’t and I want to see you. You only want me for my intel, right?”

Matt almost said yes. He almost did, but then he figured maybe Tony would appreciate something a bit less jokey. He talked big, but he was… well, he was very human. “Only in part for your intel.”

“Oh,” Tony breathed. “What’s the other part?”

“Come here and find out.”

Matt hung up before Tony could answer. He felt silly but also just a little bit elated; young and discovering new things and very much looking forward to Tony’s arrival.

He went to get a shower that he wouldn't tell Claire about and put on fresh clothes.


	11. Chapter 11

Even after spending so much time together since Matt’s injury the week before, Tony still felt like there was a lot he still had to discover about Matt. He’d healed faster than expected and claimed it was due to some fancy meditation thing, and when Tony asked Bruce if he knew of any kind of healing trance the good doctor’s eyes widened and he’d demanded to know where Tony got an idea about such wonders.

“Nowhere,” he replied very convincingly. Shut up, half his brain was working on improving the arc reactor design that powered Iron Man. Important stuff, right?

“Is it the new boyfriend?”

“What?” Tony put the redesigning on the mental backburner.

“Well, I’ve heard that you’ve been spending more and more time with the Hot Lawyer, bringing him fruit baskets and coffee machines. Coffee machines, that's like flowers and chocolate from you.”

“No,” Tony protested. Feebly.

“Yes.”

“What’s a lawyer got to do with healing trances anyway?”

“Isn’t he friends with that Rand guy? You know, him and the bulletproof man from Harlem and the angry PI? And the one with horns, too. Wasn’t he their lawyer, around that time the Midland Circle building imploded?”

“I don’t remember.” Which was true; Tony had been… otherwise occupied then, but he’d read up on it since and he was well aware of Matt’s involvement with them. But Matt was very tight-lipped about his powered friends that were absolutely not his friends and Tony had tried to give him some space. Well, Pepper had said he should, and Pepper knew about these things.

“Oh? Anyway, Rand is probably the guy to ask. Hm, maybe he’d like to come for a few tests? Or at least a chat; I’d love to compare techniques and mantras and…”

And Bruce launched on a monologue that didn’t need any input from Tony other than some strategically placed hums, so he went back to thinking about his arc reactor while Bruce mumbled about the teachings he’d received while hiding in Asia.

Soft, squishy science had never really been Tony’s preference anyway.

Still, Matt’s quick healing meant he was back at work and ready to defend his clients against Owlsley only a week after Tony had brought him JARVIS’s findings (and, yes, fine, some finagling around: SI pretending to be interested in buying some of his newly emptied lots had caused the Owl to make a few financial mistakes… and JARVIS hadn’t missed them). The legal case was strong now, but Matt still wanted to go after the rest of his organization.

“Putting him in prison won’t make his subordinates disappear; they’ll just take power or, if he’s clever enough, he’ll control them from prison,” he said, sipping at his coffee.

They were in the workshop; Tony spoke around the piece of wire he’d stuck in his mouth. “Please tell me you’re not going to take on all of them with wooden sticks and some rope.”

“I have to do something.” Matt’s determined frown was cute, but also slightly worrying. Or maybe the coffee was too hot and he’d burned his tongue, hard to say. DUM-E fumbled Tony’s own mug on the workbench but managed not to spill any of the precious, precious liquid.

“I get it, but…” Tony took the wire out so he could be _very clear_. “I don’t doubt you can, but even if you do manage to get many of them there will be others to take their place, right?”

“If I manage to cut off the head…”

“Is Hydra back?”

Tony almost dropped his screwdriver. “Cap? When did you get here?” JARVIS should have warned him!

“Just now; the green light was on above the door.”

“You didn’t say the privacy protocols were to be engaged, sir.” Was there a hint of reproach in JARVIS’s voice? Nah, couldn’t be… right?

Matt’s lips were a little quirked up because _he’d_ known, the bastard. It also meant Steve hadn’t heard anything that could out Matt as Daredevil, so there was that at least. “No Hydra. Captain Rogers, I presume?”

“Yes. Mr. Murdock?”

“Matt, please.”

They shook hands and ignored Tony while Matt explained he was talking about defending his clients.

“Foggy – my partner – and I, we can do this kind of _pro bono_ work because people like Tony hire us, too.” Aw, and now he was sending a smile in his direction; Tony forgave him.

“Ah, you’re from the firm that is working on the ADA policy?”

“We are.” How Matt could manage to look so harmless and hide he was 20% hard bone, 80% harder muscle, 100% hardest-headed guy around remained a mystery. Was it the slight hunch in his shoulders, the sweet and earnest smile? He hadn’t looked like that as he’d been demolishing Tony’s legal team when they’d met in court, that was for sure. “I imagine you have important Avengers business to discuss; I’ll leave you to it.”

What? No! “I hope you're not planning on taking up that company all by yourself,” Tony said. Better not let Matt decide to face the Owl’s people on his own just because Cap had decided to come for a chat and Matt would want to ask for help even less now that Steve was here.

“It’ll be fine, this isn’t my first time.”

“Oh, you don’t need to leave on my account; I was just coming down to ask Tony for one of his screwdrivers.”

“Cap, you’re useless with tools.”

“Am not.”

“You are. Everything explodes when you try to fix stuff.”

“Maybe I mean it to explode.”

“You tightened a screw so much you broke Clint’s brand new table.”

“He told you about that?”

“He told everyone about that. Splinters everywhere, he said.”

“I got him a new one!”

“Right.” Whatever. “So, what needs fixing?”

“The leather handle fastenings on my shield; they’re coming loose.”

“Oh, right; we can’t have that.” Tony took the shield from Steve’s hands and put it on a mostly empty workbench. “Hey, Matt; have you ever touched vibranium?”

“No. Can I?”

“Go ahead,” Cap replied.

Matt joined Tony and gingerly brushed against the metal with the tip of his fingers before flattening his palm over its surface. He tapped a nail against it, tilted his head and pursed his lips at the sound it made, and turned it around to feel the outside.

“It’s pretty light,” he said. “There is… paint on it?”

“It’s red, blue, and white. There’s a great big white star in the middle,” Cap replied.

“Ah, yes; I remember from schoolbooks when I was a kid.” He smiled. “I wasn’t born blind. Okay, Tony, the shield is yours.”

He stepped back from the bench and Tony tightened the fastenings. It was a quick job; Tony was pretty sure Steve had fucked with them himself just so he could come down and meet Matt. Several on the team had asked about the Hot Lawyer, so he knew it had been coming. Still, he hadn't expected _Steve_ to be the first.

“Right; here you are, Cap. All fixed!” Tony handed him back the shield and was very much aware of Steve’s eidetic memory recording everything about Matt; he’d kept looking at him. As long as he didn’t suspect his other identity… Matt would be furious. He wasn’t particularly great at keeping it secret but he really, really didn’t want any involvement with the Avengers and he looked relieved when Steve finally left the workshop.

“I wonder how Cap reads to those senses of yours.” He was probably impressive, what with the serum enhancements.

“Oh? Well, he reminds me a bit of some people I know. I was expecting something more… _more_.”

What? Cap was unique! “What kind of people? His readings are off the charts!”

“Yes, I’m sure he is really strong and is hard to hurt. His heart beats slow and regular; he’s light on his feet and he runs a bit hotter than average. But he’s not the only one like that.”

“And I’m assuming the people you’re thinking of are not the kind to join the Avengers either, right?”

“Right.” Matt leaned his cane against the bench behind him. “Don’t ask. Please.”

“Fine.” Tony scratched his beard. “Incentive? I need an incentive.”

“Aw.” A flash of teeth, and Tony’s breath caught. “Can I – can I touch your armor, too? When it’s on you. I don’t know… I remember what Cap looks like from when I was a kid, but I’ve never… I don’t know Iron Man.”

“You know me.”

“Please?”

Oh, fine. Not like Tony didn’t like bragging about the armor anyway, right? He called for one of the latest models, built for speed and aerial maneuvers. He took a step back so it could snap into place on him and then Matt was back, almost but not quite touching.

“Go on, touch it,” Tony said.

Matt took his time; it felt like he tested every joint, felt every plate. He was very deliberate, slow and thorough.

“Is it enough?”

“What?”

“To protect you. Is it enough? It feels so thin; how can it be more than a flying tin can?”

“Look who’s talking!” Matt frowned; wrong time to bring it up then. “Anyway, it’s not a tin can: it’s great engineering!”

“Well, of course; you made it. I’m told you’re good at your job, right?”

Tony preened; yes he was. “I’m good at plenty of things.”

“Uh huh. You say so, but where is the proof?”

“Want to find out?”

Matt leaned closer, then closer again; Tony closed his eyes waiting for their lips to touch and when nothing happened reopened them to see Matt smugly drinking from his own, Stark-branded mug.

“Your coffee’s okay, I’ll give you that.”

Tony was a nice guy, big on fair play. He took the suit off before stealing back his coffee and pinning Matt against a wall to chase the taste of it on his lips.

Of course Hot, Too Cocky For His Own Good Lawyer had gone against the Owl’s men on his own. Not that Tony didn’t know the type – he was more self-aware than most people gave him credit for, and he spent a lot of time with Cap, Clint, and other similarly-minded idiots not to recognize those patterns – but still. They’d _talked_ about it! And here Tony was, absolutely unprepared and slightly tipsy, schmoozing with high-rollers at a fundraiser for the Maria Stark Foundation. He’d managed to get other Avengers to come; Nat was frowning at Clint so he’d remember to stop tugging awkwardly on his tie, Thor was flexing for the ladies, and Cap was bored to death near the canapés.

And now JARVIS had just messaged that there was something happening in the building near where he’d found Matt half-dead, the building where what was left of Owlsley’s organization still gathered and plotted and did whatever it was they did. The _idiot!_ JARVIS had sent a drone armor already, but the police were on their way after someone called about explosions and gunshots and only human-piloted suits were allowed to actively intervene, legally speaking. As if JARVIS didn’t count as a person, but –

“Cap,” Tony hissed.

“Please tell me we can leave.”

“Please tell me you got your shield somewhere, and then I’ll tell you we can leave.”

“You asked me to bring it to dazzle the patrons, remember? It’s still in the back, though.”

“Right, yes, I did. Grab it and we’re out, then.”

“What about Clint, Thor, and Nat?”

“Clint is too drunk, and Thor and Nat will keep the donations flowing. Come on, we’re enough!”

“Enough to do what?” Steve asked as he followed Tony to the cloakroom, then to his car.

“M– a friend has gone and started a fight with way too many people; he needs backup.”

“A friend.” Steve beat Tony to the driver’s seat – yes, fine, alcohol had no effect on him, Tony _pitied_ him – and he started the car. “Address?”

The engine roared and they were speeding out of the parking lot before JARVIS had finished rattling it off. Cap might be stone cold sober; he still drove like a maniac bent on mowing down Nazis with his Jeep. “Who are we up against?”

Tony clung on to the dashboard and told himself he was fine with Steve’s driving. “Not enhanced people; they’ve got guns but apart from that we’re good.”

“You don’t have your suit, Tony!”

“I’ve got a drone armor onsite already, I’ll be fine. Just – be ready.” He opened the glovebox, got two comm pieces out, and handed one to Steve. “Here, so we’re in touch.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied as he put it in his ear. “What friend is it, anyway?”

But Tony pretended he didn’t hear Cap above the screech of the tires.

They were greeted by a hail of bullets as soon as Steve slowed down to park the car. He stopped behind a low wall and they jumped out, Cap with his shield in front and Tony right behind. He didn’t call the armor to him right away in case it was helping Matt, and they managed to get inside without any new holes in them. They’d been shot at from outside the building, so hopefully they’d get a break once inside. However, it meant that they’d probably shoot at the NYPD whenever they’d get here, too. No quick back-up on that front, then.

“I guess the paint job on your shield doesn’t mind a few bullets, but that was a lot.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “Do you know where your _friend_ is?”

Tony checked his earpiece. “JARVIS says he’s on the top floor.” He looked around; he’d rather avoid the elevator. “Stairs to the right.”

“Let’s go.”

They ran up the empty stairs until the sound of a machine gun made them stop and flatten themselves against the wall.

“And your friend is all alone in there?”

“He’s the kind to lay down on the wire; you’d like him.”

“Not the…”

The door above them was blown off and crashed down at their feet.

“I got them! Red, you go up!”

What?

“Who’s Red?” Steve asked.

“I…”

But then a stampede of guys, some bleeding heavily, some limping, some both, ran down the staircase and ignored Steve and Tony completely. Tony was still trying to process when a big silhouette appeared in the empty doorway.

“Who are you?” Shit, the guy had a huge white skull on his chest and a mighty frown on his face. Bit dirty and bloodied, but there was no mistake: this was the fucking Punisher. Whose eyes fell on Cap’s shield before coming back up. “Ah. Red’s okay; he’s with your flying tin can,” he told Tony.

“Hey!”

Castle’s flat, empty eyes moved to Steve. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

“Yes, yes, great, very manly; now where’s M-my friend?”

“Upstairs.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Followed those assholes in here, but Red was already inside.” He glanced up. “Wasn’t going to let him deal with my trash, yeah. But now…” Castle shrugged and started the climb down, giving them the barest of nods as he got past them.

“Your _friend_ ,” Steve said after a moment, “has friends himself.”

Well. Yes. The _Punisher_ – Tony was going to strangle Matt. How could he prefer the _Punisher_ to the Avengers? _How?_

“And,” Cap went on, “Castle seems like a guy I’d count on to have my back.”

“He’s insane,” Tony muttered. Not that Steve would care; they’d probably have a manly military bonding moment sharing war stories or something if they were ever given the occasion.

Cap and Tony finally got into the room and while there were some injured guys there who’d been unable to leave, all were still alive. This was _not_ regular Punisher M.O. He’d… wow, he’d respected Matt’s rules while on Matt’s turf.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “He’s definitely got someone’s back.”

They went up again and the floor above was empty; a few computers had been thrown to the floor and shot to destroy whatever had been on them. The silence was worrying after the gunshots of a few minutes before, and still no sign of Matt.

“Must have been key information on those computers,” Steve said.

Tony looked around. Whoever had fired into the machines didn’t know much about hardware, cloud storage, or, you know, backups. “We can probably still get most of the data back.”

“Good, we can look into that later. Let’s try the roof for now.” Cap strode to the stairwell, then stopped. “Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s quiet. No gunfire.”

“What is… oh.” Yes, it was _suspiciously_ gunfire-less. “Castle said, uh, Red was up, right?”

“Red’s your friend?” Steve raised his shield in front of him and got ready to push the roof door open.

Tony never answered. Something big and heavy hit the door and threw them down; Cap jumped back to his feet and flung himself into the bent metal until he could force it open.

Matt and a guy with weird glowy hands were facing a bunch of goons all by themselves. As Cap and Tony watched, they jumped into action. Tony whistled; they were going all karate kid on those goons… and weren’t some of them wearing the AIM logo?

Steve elbowed him. “That’s the Iron Fist, right? You find your drone suit first; I’m going in now!” Shield up, he ran into the fray and joined the fight.

“JARVIS,” Tony said. “That’s Rand, yeah? The guy with M… my friend.” Cap was probably still listening, no need to reveal Matt’s identity.

“I can confirm,” JARVIS said into Tony’s ear. “I have made contact with drone VII, the Iron Fist first thought it was attacking Daredevil and he managed to destroy the drone’s long-range comm systems. Drone VII is currently guarding the server room as per Daredevil’s order, to make sure the data it contains can be sent to the authorities later on.”

Fried the comms? Holy shit. Okay, and now Mr. Fist – aka Danny Rand, of Rand Enterprises – was kung-fuing his way through the armed AIM men like they were butter. He managed to high-five Steve and Matt in between some glowy fists of fury action on his enemies.

“Did you get that, Cap?”

“I did. And…” He sent his shield to Rand who caught it, made it all glowy, and flung it back to Cap. It banged a few goons on its way and was all unglowified when it got back to Steve, who seemed perfectly unfazed by this new type of desecration of the shield. “Nice, Iron Fist! Tony, this isn’t just an Owl operation, is it?” Steve straightened from bashing in the heads of a bunch of enemies, one hand over his ear. “He’s allied himself with AIM.”

“Looks like it. He’s got to be somewhere nearby; I’m going after him.”

“No!” Holy shit, he’d forgotten about Matt’s ears; of course he’d heard everything. Matt tore through two AIM soldiers to run to Tony. “Don’t do that. Without an armor…”

“Hey!” Iron Man was Tony but Tony was more than Iron Man. Drone VII was damaged and already busy, so he would simply rely on his wits. No big deal. Not like some other people who went into a fight without any armor whatsoever on the regular, anyway. “Hey, I’m Tony Stark. Weird mutations don’t scare me.”

“Weird and _dangerous_ , Tony. JARVIS, can you call for backup?”

“The Iron Fist’s power and I suspect Hammer tech nearby are jamming most of my signals, sir.”

“He’s not that dangerous.” Owlsley was not a particularly good fighter but he was very strong, very durable, and his claws could tear through flesh like it was paper. He was not, however, a very _smart_ fighter. “I can take him.”

“He’s done something more to himself, he’s – down!” Matt threw himself at Tony and flattened him on the roof.

When he looked up Tony saw Owlsley himself, standing with his arms akimbo and smirking down at them.

“The Devil I was expecting,” he said, “but Tony Stark himself? That’s a nice bonus.” He lifted a hand from his hip and the talons on his fingers were… very visible.

“What can I say? I like surprising people.” Tony got to his feet and saw Matt do the same next to him. “Uh, I got a very good manicurist, do you want his number? Nice hands, they work great for the self-esteem, you know. All this take care of yourself first self-help shit? It’s all true, believe me.”

Owlsley’s slightly too round, slightly too big eyes trained on them. “You’ve been trying to undermine my operations. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but now… now, I’ll get you both for it. And maybe those two showy idiots over there,” he said with a talony wave at Rand and Steve. “Can’t hurt.”

“You’ll _get us?_ ” Matt scoffed. “You and whose army, exactly? Because from what I _see_ ,” Tony tried not to groan out loud, “Cap and the Iron Fist have managed to subdue your allies and the Punisher… _incapacitated_ your men.”

“My men are loyal, but they’re not me – or my allies!”

Tony had to admire the showmanship. Right as the Owl finished speaking, a cheap Iron Man suit knockoff flew down from who knew where and started shooting behind them, right where Cap and his new, glowy bestie were wrapping up their own fight. Tony heard the distinctive sound of bullets hitting the shield.

“Justin, your boot jets are wobbly!” Tony shouted, and he looked back just in time to see Steve throw the Freedom Frisbee at what _had_ to be Justin Hammer in yet another of his copycat attempts.

The shield ricocheted on the metal and (to Hammer’s credit) only dented it; but since he’d been turning mid-flight to, presumably, yell back at Tony it didn’t go back to Cap in its usual Boomerang of Justice style. Instead, Matt jumped up, caught it like he’d been born to wield it, and yeeted it at Hammer in one fluid movement. Sexy; Tony approved. Wobblin’ Justin almost smashed into a wall as he tried to avoid it, but he still got another big dent on the left thigh.

On the other side of the roof, Cap touched his ear and said, “Your friend’s good with the shield. Danny and I are going to do a sweep and secure the rest of the building; it looks like you have things well in hand on your end?”

Well, from what Tony could see Matt was having the time of his life with the shield, and Justin was pissed as hell the guy in black PJs knew exactly where to hit with the sharp edge of the Holy Dish of Righteousness. _Guess his feeling up the armor had given him a good idea of the weaker points_ , Tony thought. “We still have the Owl to deal with,” he added out loud, even if Daredevil vs Fake-on Man was almost wrapped up.

“Owlsley’s here?”

“Yeah, he…” He’d disappeared. Tony looked to where Owlsley had been standing, and the spot was empty. It was also behind a shack that would have hidden him from Cap’s view, and that… was a problem. “Extra hostile around, Cap; exact abilities unknown. JARVIS, can you help?” Silence. “JARVIS?”

Steve waved his hand at Tony and gave him a thumbs-up, and he and Danny disappeared down a stairway. Great. Comms were _all_ fried, now; he and Matt were on their own. There was a big crash and Hammer finally fell to the roof, a few suit parts detaching from him; and Tony knew what to do with parts.

“So, Justin. How many fingers am I holding?”

Hammer looked up groggily; his head was unsteady. “Fuck you,” he mumbled through the faceplate.

“What, no voice modulator? I can’t believe how cheap you are.” Tony bent and plucked a glove and vambrace from Hammer. “You sit tight, Mr. Devil here and I have a job to do.”

“How tight should he sit?” Matt asked. He was holding a bunch of duct tape rolls in his hands and grinning like a fool. _Someone_ had had fun with Steve’s favorite toy. “Found those in the shack.”

Hammer made a high-pitched noise, but they ignored him and wrapped him up securely. Matt kept on alert, his head tilted like it often was when he was listening to something.

“Hear anything, DD?”

“We shouldn’t stay out here in the open,” he replied.

“Right.” If they didn’t want to be surprised again by the Owl swooping down on them, they ought to get inside. Made sense. Tony picked up Hammer’s second glove, wished he’d taken his glove-in-a-watch prototype he was _mostly_ sure worked, and hoped he’d manage to jury-rig something from those two subpar Hammer gloves. “Let’s go find the drone suit and the servers, that’s where the Owl is going to be.”

“He’ll want to keep the data from us, yeah.” Matt picked the shield up and they left I’ll-never-be-Tony Justin on the roof to head back down the stairs. “Server room is in the basement, I think.”

“You can hear them?”

“Computers are pretty loud.”

From maybe 10 floors away? …sure. “And Owlsley?”

Matt’s lips thinned. “Just landed on the roof. He’s just found, uh, Justin, and he’s… shit.” Matt started to run down the stairs, and Tony followed.

“Hey, what?”

“He thought he had some men left on the floor below; just discovered he doesn’t. He’s pissed, and he’s wearing – he’s got something more than before.”

Armed then, one way or another. Vibranium beak? Spitting fire? Shooting lasers with his eyes? Tony tried to distract himself from the feeling of his lungs trying to crawl out of his throat as they hurtled down to the basement.

Surrounded by a dozen armed men from AIM lying around it, drone VII was there, definitely looking the worse for wear. Tony wouldn’t be able to use it as a suit, but he could still MacGyver something. He was Tony Stark, for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, JARVIS.”

“Sir,” the drone said. “I am glad to see you. I have used up all my stock of paralysis and sleep gases, and as you know my programming doesn’t allow me to use lethal force.”

“No it doesn’t, and that’s how it should be. Just focus on getting as much intel as you can from those servers, okay?”

“But your protection…”

“I’ll be fine, but all comms are dead and the Owl is after us. I need some tools,” Tony added while waving the gloves, “and I may cannibalize parts from this drone. Anything non-essential.”

“Incoming,” Matt warned. “Owlsley’s found some men; they’ll be here quick. He told them to kill on sight.”

Shit. “Can you hold them off for a few minutes?”

Matt held up the shield. “My pleasure,” he said, and then he was off.

Tony tried not to worry too much, and found a bunch of screwdrivers and tweezers and pincers in a toolbox near a desk. (He worried anyway.) “Jarv, I’m going to make those into one big bang glove so I can blast the Owl; something that will ground him for good. You try and prevent anyone from getting to the servers, right?”

“Of course, sir.”

“What’s happening here, anyway?” Twist some wires here, splice others there… “The computers upstairs were all shot down, why not those too?”

“From what I understand, Mr. Owlsley has branched out into crypto-currencies.”

“What? Are you saying he’s…” Tony looked around. “The Birdcoin. He’s the guy behind the Birdcoin?”

“Yes. He’s using a private blockchain to record his transactions, communicate with his lieutenants, store his assets…”

“Holy shit.”

But before he could really get down into the cogs and gears of the Owl’s businesses, a big crash told him time was up. His quick-and-dirty glove job (shit, that didn’t sound right) was untested and would probably only fire once or twice; he’d have to use it when it really counted and hope it didn’t explode his hand off somehow. Tony picked up a gun from one of the downed men JARVIS had neutralized via drone VII, found a few more magazines in the guys’ pockets, and readied himself near the door.

After that, things were a blur. Tony shot kneecaps, Matt bounced off walls and bashed in all the heads he found with the Most American of Saucers, and all the while they expected the Owl to join the fray at any moment. They managed to keep the mobsters out of the basement, but Tony was running low on bullets and Matt was breathing like a freight train. He was bleeding in a few places, too; Tony could see the tell-tale shine on his dark clothes. This disaster of a mission had to end now.

“Why isn’t he here?” Tony asked between smashing the butt of his gun on some random goon’s temple and doing a quick pocket search for more ammo.

“He’s,” Matt smashed the Peace Dish on a poor shmuck’s face, “right,” took another guy’s legs out from under him with a quick swipe of his, “behind,” high-kicked an automatic rifle away, “the door!” …and wow, Cap himself would be jealous of that backflip and throw combo.

Right, but… “Behind the door?”

And the lights shut down.

“He’s here! He’s coming; you’re all fucked!” someone yelled from the floor. Huh, that one hadn’t been kicked enough, presumably.

“There’s only one of him, asshole.” Tony wasn’t sure if Matt’s rasp was because he was maintaining his Daredevil growl or because of exhaustion; maybe both.

“Your boss’s got night goggles, buddy?”

There was a loud noise like a door torn off its hinges, and a somewhat deranged voice screeched, “I am… _the Owl!_ ”

Holy shit. What was that, amateur theater hour? “Yeah, and I’m Tony Stark. Hi.”

Did the Owl know about Matt’s blindness? Because yeah, Tony was stuck until he found something to help him see, but Matt? He was in his element. Except after all the fighting and without knowing what new enhancements and weapons the avian wannabe thespian had… shit. And now, if Tony turned the glove’s power source on, he’d make super obvious what kind of weapon he had.

“You, Mr. Stark, have trespassed on my property. This can’t look good, all this overt corporate spying.”

“Allying yourself with the likes of Hammer can’t look good either, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers, eh?”

“He and his men were sacrificed for the cause. My loyal followers and their families will be rewarded for their blood; I am not ungrateful.”

“But you are a mob boss, Leland, and that is enough to get you behind bars.”

“I’ll never go back to prison, little Devil. Never!” There was a whoosh and a clang, and Tony thought he recognized the sound of the shield hitting metal.

“I think you’ll find you will,” Matt said. “How does Captain America’s shield feel, Leland?”

“My bones have been reinforced; I am not afraid of a little piece of metal!”

“But you’re afraid of prison.”

Hiding behind an upturned table, Tony finally turned the glove on; he needed to know what was happening. Right as he managed it by touch, the Owl screeched again and took a leap to land on Matt… but he hadn’t expected Matt would not-see him coming and step aside. Owlsley crashed into the drone which nicely stood its ground, braced against the doorway to the servers as it was; and Matt threw the shield again. It boomeranged right back in his hands after hitting its target, but the Owl didn’t look too bothered by the hit.

Okay, enough.

Now Tony’s eyes had adjusted, he could see it wasn’t total darkness; apart from the glove on its lowest setting the Owl’s eyes gave off a faint luminescence. Creepy. “Get down,” Tony whispered; he had to trust Matt would hear.

But Matt didn’t get down and started taunting Owlsley, prowling back and forth right out of reach of the guy’s talons.

“Come on, you can’t get into that room; not with Stark, the robot, and me in there to stop you!”

“I’ll make short work of you.”

“Promises, promises.”

Tony frowned, then realized what was happening. Matt was drawing the Owl away from the servers so that Tony could blast him without damaging them. Except he kept right in the line of fire, and Tony was reminded of how casually Matt treated his life sometimes.

“Get down now, I won’t hit them!” Tony breathed.

Matt dropped.

Tony fired.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the night remained a confused memory for Matt. He hit the floor, Tony’s makeshift weapon whined and shot the Owl straight in the chest, and somehow he found himself outside sitting on the edge of a van. Someone was talking to him. At him?

“Yeah,” he said.

“Wow, you’re out of it.” Tony’s voice. He hadn't noticed Tony was there, just that he was outside. His senses were a mess. Huh, that smell…

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Glove burned my hand a little, but nothing too bad. You, on the other hand, have two cracked ribs, bruises and cuts everywhere, a few knocks on the head, and you’ve apparently managed to lose a bit of blood. Again.”

“Not that much.”

“Not enough that you need a transfusion, so there’s that. The medic said you should go to hospital, do you remember that?”

“Sure.” He didn’t. Medic?

“Right. Look, Cap came back with the NYPD to arrest the bunch of men left in the building and found us downstairs; I managed to get you to an Avengers ambulance and made sure no one took your mask off; the medic didn’t like it but, eh. She’s used to masked folks, you know? Still, if she comes back, I’d rather you were elsewhere. She’s going to want to check your eyes inside the ambulance again, and I’m not sure I can stop her this time.”

“Cap?” That was relevant. “Uh. Shield?”

“Jesus, you’re a mess. Yeah, I gave it back to him. Told him you were serious competition in the shield acrobatics field; he said he was happy you’d wielded it for Justice and Righteousness.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay… it was what he meant, you know?”

“Hm.” Matt waved a hand in front of him until Tony took it. “Home?”

“Yeah, Happy can drive us back to the Tower.”

“Home,” Matt repeated, jerking his hand out of Tony’s.

“You need to stop by the infirmary.” Matt crossed his arms and waited, trying not to slide off from the edge of the ambulance out of sheer exhaustion. “…Fine, I’ll get what we need here and have Happy take us to your place. Unless…”

There was a slightly worrying pause. “Tony?”

“I mean, if you’d rather. Be on your own?”

Matt smiled. “Nah.”

The ride to Hell’s Kitchen was smooth enough Matt fell asleep in the car. He did not, contrary to what Tony claimed afterward, drool on Tony’s shoulder. Slander.

Tony insisted on coming with him in the shower in case he fell and broke his skull open. Matt resisted; Tony won.

Fine, so he didn’t resist that much. Matt was aware he wasn’t too steady on his feet, and even if he used the fold-out stool it was nice to know someone would catch him, whatever happened. And, to be truly honest, he wasn’t quite sure _what_ was happening in the shower. Things were fuzzy and his head was throbbing, so he let the water – soapy, then not – sluice over him and he dozed until the spray was cut off and a towel landed around his shoulders.

“Tony?”

“Yep, I’m here.”

“You’re hurt, too.”

“Nothing bad; I got some burn salve and antiseptic cream. Hey, you got something for me to wear?”

Matt extended a hand and touched Tony’s warm, damp skin. Ah, yes; he’d been in the shower with him. “You’re naked.”

“No shit.”

“Closet, left door, third shelf from the bottom.”

“You got it.”

Matt sat on the stool and listened to Tony move around his apartment as he absently patted himself dry(-ish); he could tell where he was from every creak of the floorboards and from how his heartbeat and breathing echoed in the space. He heard him open the closet, tap the shelves as he counted them, reach the third one, pull out some sweatpants and a shirt. Shirts. After a while, Tony was back and standing in front of him.

“Here’s for you,” he said, and a pile of familiar fabric landed in his lap. “Those are very comfy, I must say, but not something I’d wear outside.”

“You planning to leave?”

“…nah, unless you want me to.”

Matt let his head fall on Tony’s stomach. “Stay,” he said.

So Tony stayed.

Matt spent the weekend meditating the remains of the fight away in between taking a few walks around the neighborhood with Tony (and taking him to mass again), putting Nelson & Murdock’s final touches on Stark Industries’ New And Improved ADA Compliance Policy, and absolutely _not_ drooling on Tony when he fell asleep on his chest as _Rocky 2_ was playing on Tony’s tablet.

“So I’m comfy, eh?”

“No,” Matt grumbled.

“Uh huh.”

“Too hard.”

“Right. My pecs would give Cap’s a run for their money, that’s for sure.”

Matt smiled against said respectably hard chest. “I wouldn't know.”

“Would you _like_ to know?” Tony sounded, maybe, just the tiniest bit, insecure.

“Not particularly.” Matt moved his cheek an inch away from where he’d _not_ drooled. “It’s just… you smell nice.”

“Hm. Like what?”

“Like… you. And me. You’re wearing my sweater.”

“I am; it’s super soft. I like it.” He probably wouldn't be caught dead in it outside of Matt’s apartment, but for now… it was perfect under Matt’s cheek. “So you’re saying I’m smelling like the both of us?”

It sounded a little too much like a Declaration, so Matt only hummed and moved to stick his nose in Tony’s neck.

“You’re like a dog, Murdock. Muttdock? Murdog? Ow!” Tony yelped when Matt pinched his side.

“Am not. And it’s better than smelling like the precinct.”

“I can’t believe you recognized which one I went to by smell alone.”

“I’m that good.”

“Right. And modest to boot.” Tony’s fingers played along his back and shoulders, a soft pitty-patter that could lull him right back into sleep. “I had to make a deposition and make sure Owlsley was being taken care of, anyway. Since you insisted the NYPD deal with it and not the Avengers.”

“You’re not above the law. The Avengers _aren’t_ the law.”

“No,” Tony said, pensive. “We’re not, and we shouldn't be.”

Matt kissed the bit of skin right where his nose had been. “I’m sure having Cap with you helped make your point.”

“Oh, definitely. No officer would dare oppose Captain Justice and the American Way.”

“But they would Iron Man?”

“I’m sure some dream of it.”

“Aw. Guess you need more lawyers.”

“Does this mean you’ll let me hire you for real?”

“Tony.”

“Hey, you could have changed your mind with all those knocks on the noggin you got.”

“I’ll sue you.”

“Aw, you’re like everyone else; you’re just after my money.”

“I’ll give it all to a charity.”

“How predictable.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Hm. Go on, surprise me. Tell me one thing I don’t know about you.”

Matt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling Tony’s slight shudder as he did. Should he say... There were many things he could say: _A blind ninja from a hidden cult taught me how to fight. I had a girlfriend who died twice, was turned into a mystical zombie once, and broke my heart each time._ But he didn’t want pity, just like Elektra wouldn't have wanted any. She’d died both times on her own terms, fighting as and for herself at last. And Stick… Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to speak about him without resentment. He should give Tony something lighter, something they could smile about.

“Matt?”

“My mother’s a nun.”

Tony remained silent for a moment. “Okay, you win. In part because you had to think about it as if you have a bunch of surprises to dump on me, but… huh. Sister Maggie?”

“Not sure she’s all that holy, but yeah.”

“I see you’re not disputing that she could be a little shit.”

“I come by it honestly.”

“That you do, Magoo, that you do.”

Matt grinned and let Tony’s voice wash over him. He talked about his latest engineering projects, improvements he wanted to make on the suits, how Pepper was always right; he described Bruce’s latest lab mishap and Clint’s most recent feats in his ongoing prank war with Thor. Matt made what he hoped were the right noises at appropriate times, and listened to how Tony’s voice reverberated in his apparently un-Cap-like (but perfectly good, in Matt’s opinion) chest. After a while, Tony’s phone pinged and he was quiet for a few seconds, then he said, “Happy’s asking after you.” A pause. “He knows, but he won’t betray you. I promise.”

“Oh. Cap?”

“I… suspect he suspects.”

Matt tried to think that over, but he was just too comfortably settled to worry much for now. “Kay,” he mumbled. He’d freak out later, when Tony wouldn't be there to card his fingers through Matt’s hair.

“Bedtime?”

“Mm.” Matt slowly sat up and stretched before standing. “Maybe dinner first? But tomorrow it’s back to work, and then I’ll put the mask back on in the evening.”

“Sure. New York can’t survive without its very own Zatoichi, eh?”

“Damn right. And its flying tin can, of course.”

The Invincible Iron Man’s indignant squawks made him snicker right until Tony pinned him against the kitchen counter and kissed him. That, Matt decided, was an acceptable way to lose an argument, if not one he’d welcome in court.

Matt threw himself back into both his night and day lives after the weekend was over. Work at the office and in court with Foggy, then back home, a quick nap, and he was off on the roofs. At least _there_ , no one teased him for spending an entire two days holed up in his apartment with Iron Man, because both Karen and Foggy had been merciless about it.

He also tried not to let Tony’s texts distract him but it was hard; they wouldn't have time to meet until Friday, what with Tony’s business trip to Shanghai then Delhi, and Matt found he _missed_ him. Tony was a smartass who’d always lived in luxury, who owned a fucking giant tower in Manhattan and could have chosen to while away his days spending the money his inherited company used to make from weapons of war and death. But he’d chosen differently, and he made that choice again every day, and he’d come to St. Agnes with him and he’d… Matt just missed him. Not that he was counting the days to Friday, but he was looking forward to the moment when Karen would say, “That’s it, I’m done for the week! If I see one more form to fill out I’ll just quit,” and Foggy would laugh and beg her to stay, and Matt would…

“Hey, Avocados at Law! I’m coming bearing gifts in exchange for one of yours, if you will part from him.”

Tony. “Tony?”

“The one and only. Miss me?”

Yes. “No.”

“He’s been pining all week long,” Karen said. Betrayal! Also: Lies.

“Sad face and sadder sighs. Just take him away from us.”

“ _Foggy!_ ”

“What? It’s true! But what are those gifts you’re speaking of?”

“Am I glad you’re asking.” Tony sounded particularly happy with himself, which in turn made Matt particularly worried. “Here you go,” he said.

There was the sound of a few soft things being set on Karen’s desk. She made something she’d forever deny was a squeal, Foggy guffawed, and then a mechanical voice said, “I’m Iron Foggy Bear!”

“I love it!” Fogs said. “It’s wearing a red tie with gold stripes that light up when you touch its ear; it’s perfect! Wait – did you talk with Marci?”

“Marci… she’s your girlfriend, right? No, why?”

Karen coughed in an absolutely not suspicious manner.

“Absolutely no reason, and I won’t tell you about her idea of pet names,” Matt said.

“Matt, you traitor, don’t you dare!”

“It would only be your just desserts, Fogs.”

Karen covered Foggy’s sputtering with her voice. “Nevermind Marci, let me try mine – Matt, it’s got a tiny notepad in its paw!”

“The bear is mightier than the sword!” A higher-pitched mechanical voice announced.

“And it’s got a necklace that lights up!” Karen added.

Matt let his head fall into his hands. _Tony_.

“Hey buddy, come try yours now!”

“Foggy…”

“I couldn't decide, so I got two made: an Iron Bear Devil one and an Iron Lawyer Bear one!” Tony sounded like a kid in a candy shop, and suddenly Matt didn’t have the heart to rain on his parade.

“Can I touch them?”

“Of course!” Tony dumped the two in his lap, and Matt ran his fingers over the two teddy bears. They were very soft, and the clothes they were wearing were good quality too. One had a tie and a nice, wool suit on while the other had soft horns between the fluffy ears poking through a mask that went low over the face. And… yes, there were ropes around the front paws, too. “Kids will love them.”

“I didn’t get them done for kids!”

Matt aimed his face at Tony. “We get a lot of kids here who come with their parents, and we don’t have a lot of toys or books.”

“They could be educational! _You, too, can be a lawyer_ kind of thing! Or, uh. Maybe we shouldn't have the Bear Devil one around, that’s maybe not the greatest role model. No slight intended, Matt, but…”

“I get it, Fogs.” Not that it didn’t hurt, just a little, that Foggy thought Daredevil wasn’t a good example for kids, but… he wasn’t wrong either.

“You can take it home with you, then,” Tony said.

“Just so you know, Matty, non-bear Iron Man is making doe eyes at you. I think it’s safe to say you should take both the bear and Tony, and be grossly cute anywhere that’s not this place where we uphold the law of our glorious country.”

“We’re not grossly cute.”

“Yes we are,” Tony said. “Come on, Bear Devil! Things to do, places to go; chop chop!”

Matt sighed and shook his head, trying to look as put upon as he could. “If I must.” He set the Lawyer bear, with its tiny cane and glasses, back on Karen’s desk, and slid his hand in the crook of Tony’s arm.

“Just bring him back in one piece on Monday, okay?” Foggy said.

“Him, or the toy?” Tony put the DD Bear back in a bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“The toy, obviously,” Foggy replied.

Matt made a rude gesture behind his back and smiled at Karen and Fog’s mock outrage all the way down the stairs.

“So what’s this thing about Foggy’s girlfriend?” Toy asked.

Matt smiled and spilled the beans. It was revenge for all the teasing about Tony he’d had to endure through the week, and therefore entirely deserved.

Three weeks later, SI had made public its new ADA policy, and Leland Owlsley was behind bars. Matt hoped he’d stay there for a long time, but he knew better than to believe he would. The Owl never could be pinned down for long, but at least his plans had been derailed and the people of the Kitchen he’d been threatening to evict still had their homes. That was something.

His phone buzzed and he picked it from the desk; it was a message from Tony. He hoped his face didn’t make it too obvious, because his office door was open and if Karen saw him look the tiniest bit happy she’d sound the sappy alert and Foggy would come and Matt would just like _one day_ without any jokes about not having to work now he could embrace a career as a kept man, little Iron Man figurines popping up around his files, and the like.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice said. “Are you free tonight? I know you said you had to, you know, do the thing, but… I’d like to try that Thai fusion place Bruce told me about. With you, I mean. What do you say? Call me back whenever; I’m in the workshop all day. I finished the Bugatti upgrades too, if you want to take a spin. So, uh, yeah. See you, I hope.”

Matt tried to keep his face straight and not grin like an idiot. The Kitchen had been quiet lately and maybe – just maybe – he could take the evening off, just this once. Right?

Tony said he’d come to the office to make sure, he claimed, that Matt wouldn’t change his mind about their… fine, their date. But he’d only call it that in his head, whatever his partners said.

“You can’t keep calling it a working lunch or a dinner meeting, you know.”

“Watch me.”

“Karen’s right, you can and should call it what it is. Lying’s a sin, Matty, remember?”

“Who keeps ‘forgetting’ to mention the bears to their girlfriend?”

“Hey, _I’m_ not Catholic.”

Matt was about to point out Foggy had been baptized in the same church as Matt himself had been when he heard Tony behind the door.

“How are my favorite Hell denizens in the whole world?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, Tony.”

“Aw, but this is your kingdom, Mr. Devil.”

“At least I don’t feel the need to assert dominance by building a gigantic tower.”

“I am not overcompensating,” Tony said, “and I definitely don’t need to. As you know very well.”

“TMI! TMI!” Foggy threw Matt’s coat at his head. “Just leave before Karen and I end up puking on our files, Jesus!”

Tony snickered and dragged Matt by the arm, stopping in the staircase to kiss him soundly. “There, been thinking about doing exactly that all day long.”

“I thought you’d been thinking about that restaurant.”

“Mm, yeah, that too. It’s early though, we could go for cocktails first.”

“Beer.”

“Jesus, not that disgusting place again.”

“Josie’s or nothing.”

“Only if you let me trounce everyone at pool.”

“Deal.”

Josie hadn’t approved of having Tony Stark in her fine establishment the first few times, but since he never played up the celebrity card and always paid his tab, she now let them be. They had a couple beers, Tony won some money that he stuffed in the trunk Matt had convinced Josie to leave near her register (“it’s for the kids, Josie; you can’t say no to a kids’ charity, right?”), and Matt was feeling pleasantly buzzed when they set out for the Thai joint Tony wanted to try.

It was a ways out from the Kitchen, but not so far that they couldn't walk there. It would clear his head a bit, Matt thought, and he just liked holding Tony’s arm, feeling his warmth and his… aliveness, right there under his hand.

“You could stay at the Tower tonight,” Tony said, “it’s closer. What do you say?”

The air was cool, the scarf Karen had given him for Christmas was soft, Tony was close. “Hm.”

“Wow, two beers and you’re drunk, can’t believe it. Did you skip lunch again?”

Yes. “No.”

“Uh huh.” Tony was smiling, it was right there in his voice. “You know you… Oh.” His arm stiffened under Matt’s fingers.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. Matt.”

“Dr. Rosario.”

“Dom?” Matt felt his eyebrows raise up. “Hey, how are you? And your baby?”

“We’re good, thank you.” Dom cleared their throat. “I wasn’t expecting to see you around here, especially… together.”

“Uh, yeah.” _Eloquent, Matt_ , he told himself.

“I read the new policy you set up at SI, and I heard that several other companies were planning to adopt similar guidelines.”

“Matt and Foggy did a great job,” Tony said.

“They did. I’m glad it turned out that way, Mr. Stark; I didn’t sue you for the money.”

“I know. I heard your own company is thriving, too, so congrats. I’m sure you’ll go on to do great things.”

Dom laughed. “Well, that’s the plan at least. And,” they added, “it looks like I can add matchmaker to the list of my accomplishments. Am I wrong?”

“Um.” Matt tried not to fidget, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t entirely successful.

“No, you’re not wrong,” Tony replied. He sounded happy, proud even. “Something else I have to thank you for, apart from the push to improve our ADA policy. Both took some work, but nothing would have happened without you.” He planted a kiss on Matt’s cheek and that was it, Matt felt his face heat up. “You’re blushing,” Tony added.

“I know,” Matt ground out. “Your fault.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Aw, it looks like you’re on a date, right?” Dom reached out and squeezed Tony’s arm, then Matt’s. “I won’t keep you from it, then. I’m happy for you, really. It all turned out all right, didn’t it?”

Matt let Tony handle the goodbyes, shook Dom’s hand and smiled and said what he hoped were the right words while he tried to wrap his head around the last few months. It was all hitting him in that moment, all the changes in his life from the moment Dom had walked into Nelson and Murdock’s office, determined to make things better for everyone who didn’t fit into neat boxes.

And, yeah. It did turn out all right, in the end.

  



End file.
